The Beggar’s Throne

Chapter Eight

Vivian’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe she’s not just a Carter.”

Jake looked up.

Vivian continued. “If she’s sniffing around, then she’s either working with Holt… or she’s getting too close to finding you.”

Jake’s voice dropped. “You think she suspects?”

“No. But Holt might.”

Jake paced. “The Carters think I’m just Amanda’s embarrassment. I’ll stay that way. Go back to the mansion. Be the broke son-in-law, quiet and harmless. 

While Diane’s unconscious, I'll keep an eye on her phone, and wait for any call, if Holt was at the bar, he would call and lead me straight to him, he's been wanting to see me, so have i”.

“And if she’s loyal to Holt?” Vivian asked.

“I’ll find out. Either she’s playing both sides… or she just made herself a target.” Jake said and left in his Honda to the Carter mansion.

“What was so important, that you had to leave the hospital?” Amanda asked as Jake tried to enter his room which was just opposite hers.

“Wel… well I had a quick delivery to make,” Jake said avoiding eye contact, “when are we going to see my mother in law?”.

“I would pretend like I didn't hear what you called her, you would go and check on her tomorrow morning we would join you later on” 

Jake gave a slight nod and entered his room.

The next morning Jake arrived at the ICU, Diane laid unconscious, her face pale against the hospital sheets. 

Jake stepped in quietly, carrying a paper cup of hospital coffee he hadn’t touched.

No nurses in sight. Just the monitor beeping beside her.

Her phone was on the tray table. Locked, but not guarded.

Jake glanced at the hallway, then moved closer back in. He picked it up like he’d done it a hundred times before. Just a concerned son-in-law, with no bad intentions.

The screen lit up with one missed notification. Not a message. A call from a private ID, no name, no number. Just the time: 14 minutes ago.

Jake’s eyes narrowed.

He tapped around, looking for more—no saved contact, no message history. Clean. Too clean.

But then he found it: a hidden app, disguised as a calculator. He pressed the right passcode, a trick he’d learned watching Diane type before. The app opened.

GhostLine.

Jake scrolled. Recent activity. No names, just ID strings but one stood out:

X742-A, Connected 0:46 seconds Location ping: South Side, near the docks.

Jake pulled his phone from his coat and tapped open a small tool, a ghost-sync app Vivian had once slipped onto his burner and had access to.

Clone Active Session Logs?

Confirm.

He hit yes. A bar loaded. Within seconds, the encrypted logs transferred to his phone. Not messages, just call times, ID tags, location bounce data.

Enough.

Jake set Diane’s phone back exactly where it was. 

He stepped back, with his eyes on Diane's face. “I hope you’re not working with him,” he muttered.

In the hallway, his phone beeped, a reply from Vivian already.

X742-A is Holt’s old comms ID. You found him.

Jake stared at the message.

He slipped out of the ICU and walked toward the elevator, and took the elevator down. No one noticed him leave. He didn’t look back, and didn't think about the CCTV.

Jake arrived at Vivian’s House, 30 Minutes Later

Rain softly hit the windows, Vivian was in her kitchen, standing by the island. On the counter were two phones: hers and a cloned one tied to Diane’s phone, linked to Diane’s information.

Jake walked in, soaked from the shoulders down, still gripping the wheel of his thoughts.

Vivian glanced at him. “You got the message?”

Jake nodded. “X742-A. That’s him?”

“Yes.” She slid the phone toward him. “When your father was still alive, Holt ran all encrypted calls through that tag. We used to intercept them for surveillance. But after Michael died, he vanished. Now, he just pinged back.”

“He’s been watching Diane. Maybe all of us.” Jake replied 

“Then we give him something to see,” Vivian said, already typing.

Jake leaned in. “What are you doing?”

“Luring him out.”

She composed a message from Diane’s cloned signal. Simple. Controlled.

I'm fine. We need to talk. Same place you mentioned in case of emergency. Tonight. It's urgent.

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What place?”

Vivian looked at him. “There was a field they used to meet when Holt was a co-worker, it's an open land, private enough for covert exchanges. I still have the coordinates.”

She hit send.

Few seconds later, her screen lit up.

Got it. I'm on my way. Come alone.

Jake exhaled. “He’s paranoid.”

“He’s Holt. Of course he is,” Vivian replied. “We move now. He won’t wait.”

Vivian drove and Jake sat beside her, he hadn't thought being the heir to the Kane syndicate would come with a lot of danger.

“You sure he won’t recognize me?” Jake asked.

Vivian kept her eyes forward. “Holt’s never seen your face. Just your father’s bloodline. So You’re a ghost to him.”

Jake gave a faint nod. “Let’s keep it that way. Until I’m standing in front of him.”

Vivian’s hands tightened on the wheel. “He’s expecting Diane. He’ll come expecting a conversation.”

Jake looked at her. “Then let’s give him one.”

They drove the next few minutes in silence, the field was just miles ahead, hidden at the back of a few trees.

Vivian slowed the car and parked behind an old rusted fence, and they stepped out.

Jake looked around the area. “You sure he’ll come alone?”

Vivian nodded. “He’s arrogant. Always thought he was untouchable.”

A black SUV rolled up from the other side of the field, the lights went off, and engine went off.

Jake and Vivian moved to stand in the center of the clearing.

The SUV door opened.

Holt stepped out, putting on a black coat and no smile 

He stopped when he saw Vivian.

He became confused. Then suspicios, then angry.

“Where’s Diane?” he asked firmly.