Chapter 2 – THE SECRET INSIDE THE SILVER WATCH

I stared at the black USB drive hidden inside my husband’s watch.

Michael wasn’t careless. He wouldn’t just lose his most prized possession. He hid it.

The factory doors groaned loudly as Ethan threw his entire weight against the crowbar.

With a deafening crack, the electronic lock shattered.

Ethan pulled the heavy doors open, and a wall of heat and smoke hit us.

Inside, the automated robotic arms of Line Seven were moving erratically, swinging heavy steel car parts at terrifying speeds.

Workers were huddled behind concrete pillars, trapped by the wildly swinging machinery.

“The main power switch!” the foreman yelled, pointing toward a catwalk suspended thirty feet above the floor. “But the stairs are blocked by the welder arm!”

Ethan didn’t hesitate. He pulled Michael’s blue jacket tight around him and sprinted into the smoke.

I stood in the doorway, clutching the silver watch to my chest.

Through the haze, I watched Ethan dodge a swinging mechanical arm. He grabbed a hanging chain hoist and pulled himself up onto the catwalk, his tuxedo pants tearing at the knee.

He ran to the breaker box and threw his weight against the massive red lever.

The entire factory plunged into darkness.

The machines ground to a violent, screeching halt.

For a terrifying second, there was only silence.

Then, coughing and cheering erupted from the factory floor as the emergency lights flickered on.

The workers emerged from behind the pillars, covered in soot but alive.

Ethan climbed down the ladder, his face smeared with grease. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were wide and frantic as he walked toward me.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his chest heaving.

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice trembling.

I held out my hand and opened my palm.

“Ethan. Look what I found.”

He stared at the cracked silver watch.

“Is that Michael’s?”

“Yes. It was on the floor by the control panel.”

I popped the back casing open again, revealing the black USB drive.

Ethan’s brow furrowed. “What is that?”

“I don’t know. But Michael never took this watch off. He must have hidden this here the night he died.”

“Mr. Cole!”

We turned. Marcus Ward was standing in the doorway, flanked by two corporate security guards. His face was pale, his eyes fixed on the watch in my hand.

“Ethan,” Marcus said, his voice shaking. “Celeste sent me. She wants you to come back to the ballroom immediately. The press is asking questions.”

Ethan glared at him. “Tell Celeste the press is the least of her worries.”

“Ethan, please,” Marcus stepped closer, his eyes darting to the USB drive. “Give me that drive. It could be a virus that caused the malfunction. I need to take it to IT.”

He reached for my hand.

Ethan slapped Marcus’s arm away.

“Don’t touch her.”

Marcus backed up, his hands raised in surrender. But the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.

He wasn’t afraid of a virus. He was afraid of what Michael had saved.

“We’re going to my office,” Ethan said, grabbing my elbow and steering me away from Marcus.

We took the private elevator to the executive floor.

Ethan’s office was massive, overlooking the Chicago skyline. He locked the heavy glass door behind us and walked to his desk.

He booted up his secure laptop and held out his hand.

I gave him the USB drive.

He plugged it in.

A single file popped up on the screen. It was a video file, dated six years ago. The night Michael died.

Ethan clicked play.

The screen flickered, showing the grainy black-and-white security feed of Line Seven.

There was Michael. My husband. Wearing his blue jacket, holding a wrench, inspecting a jammed gear.

The timestamp read 2:10 AM.

“He’s doing a manual reset,” Ethan whispered, leaning closer to the screen. “The safety guard should have prevented the machine from moving.”

On the screen, a figure stepped into the frame.

They were wearing a dark hoodie, their face obscured.

The figure walked to the control panel, typed something into the keypad, and pulled a red metal key from the console.

The emergency bypass key.

Michael looked up, yelling something at the figure.

But the figure just turned and walked away, locking the heavy steel doors from the outside.

At 2:14 AM, the machine suddenly roared to life.

I covered my mouth with my hand, tears streaming down my face as the video cut to black.

Michael’s death wasn’t an accident.

He had been murdered.

Ethan sat frozen in his leather chair, his face completely drained of blood.

“Ethan?” I whispered. “Who was that?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at the screen, his hands trembling.

“Ethan, who was wearing that hoodie?”

He slowly looked up at me. His eyes were filled with a horror I had never seen before.

“Ruth,” he whispered. “That was me.”

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