I Am Your Daughters Gatekeeper Chapter 1

The heavy thud of the car door was still echoing in my ears when the ride-share driver floored it. I hadn’t even reached the trunk for my suitcase before his taillights were shrinking into the distance.

Panic flared in my chest. I fumbled for my phone and hit the call button immediately, offering to pay him extra just to turn around and bring my bag back. I expected a simple "on my way." Instead, I got a cold, calculated silence, followed by a demand that made my blood run cold.

"A thousand bucks," he said. No hesitation. No shame.

I scoffed, my voice rising in disbelief. "Are you joking? I'm not paying a thousand dollars for a three-mile return trip."

"Suit yourself," he replied with a dry, jagged chuckle. "It’s not my life in this suitcase, is it? You're the one in a rush. Not me."

The realization hit me like a physical blow. He knew he had me. I looked at my colleague, who was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes. We had a career-defining presentation tomorrow—files, hard drives, and sensitive documents were all in that trunk. I gritted my teeth and forced the words out. "Fine. A thousand. Just get back here."

He didn't even drive a hundred yards before his voice crackled over the speaker again, dripping with newfound greed. "Actually, I changed my mind. It’s ten thousand now."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat felt like it was closing up. Sensing my hesitation, his tone shifted from smug to predatory. "What, no cash? Fine. Don't believe me? I'll find the nearest dumpster and toss this thing right now. You can go treasure hunting for your precious files yourself."

Ten thousand dollars. It was a ransom. But the thought of losing those documents—of failing the vetting process we were here to conduct—left me no choice. "Fine," I hissed through clenched teeth. "Ten thousand. I'll pay."

Five minutes passed. The phone buzzed again. "You know what? I'm thinking twenty thousand sounds more like a fair convenience fee."

Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. My thumb hovered over the ride-share app, ready to hit the report button and call the police. But then, I caught a glimpse of his profile picture in the corner of the screen. I froze.

Slowly, a different kind of smile spread across my face. It wasn't one of joy, but of a cold, sharp irony.

"Go ahead, Ray," I whispered to the silent screen. "Take every cent. You’re going to regret this more than you can possibly imagine."

* * *

"Twenty thousand?" I repeated the number, my fingers tightening around the phone until my knuckles turned white. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

The driver, a man named Ray Garrity, didn’t miss a beat. His voice boomed through the receiver, devoid of any empathy. "I don’t play games, lady. Hurry up."

"Either you wire twenty thousand to my account right now, or I'm dumping this suitcase in the trash. Your call."

The sheer audacity of it was staggering. I navigated to the app's 'Help' interface, my finger trembling over the 'Report Driver' button. He must have sensed the shift in the silence because he let out a sharp, mocking laugh.

"Listen to me carefully," Ray warned. "Don't even think about reporting me. The second I get a notification from the app, your suitcase hits the bottom of a grease-filled dumpster. Try me."

I froze. The threat hung in the air, thick and suffocating. My finger hovered, paralyzed, before I slowly backed out of the screen.

Macy, my junior associate, grabbed my arm. Her voice was high and thin with panic. "Joanna, what are we going to do? Those files... if they’re lost, we’re finished. We can’t show up at the District Office tomorrow empty-handed."

She leaned toward the phone, her voice pleading. "Please, sir. Those documents are incredibly important. Can’t you have a heart? We’ll give you a five-star rating, a huge tip, anything—just bring it back?"

Clearly, to a man like Ray, a five-star review was a joke compared to a twenty-thousand-dollar payday.

"Five stars?" he spat. "What do I look like, a charity? I’m not some kid working for pocket change."

Then came the ultimatum. "Two minutes. That’s all you get to decide. Send the money, or say goodbye to your gear. I don't have all night to waste on you."

Click.

The line went dead. Macy’s eyes were rimmed with red, her face pale. "Joanna, what do we do? We can't actually give him twenty thousand dollars, can we?"

A dull ache started behind my eyes. I hesitated for only a second before the phone vibrated again. Ray was whistling a cheerful, jaunty tune on the other end. "Time's up. You paying, or am I dumping?"