Downtown, he searched for news of the crash. Nothing. No article. No missing executive. Online searches returned nothing about him personally—only the company, still operating as if he had never existed. His email didn’t respond. His phone number wasn’t listed. It was as if someone had erased him.
“Someone wiped me out,” he whispered.
He returned to his gated community with Lena. At the entrance, the guard stared blankly.
“I’m Daniel Torres. House eight.”
“ID?”
“I lost it in an accident.”
The guard made a call and came back shaking his head. “No one by that name lives here.”
The gate remained closed. The silence inside it felt colder than the river.
“Someone wants you gone,” Lena said matter-of-factly.
A name surfaced in his mind: Victor. His business partner. His trusted right hand. The man who knew everything—passwords, accounts, weaknesses.
Elsewhere, Victor sat in a sleek boardroom, calm. He had moved funds, sealed access points, removed digital traces, even disposed of the SUV before authorities could document it. Clean work. Almost perfect—until surveillance confirmed Daniel was alive.
“I’m sending you a picture,” Victor said into an unregistered phone. “Make him disappear.”