Chapter 2 - The Room That Wasn’t Supposed to Exist
Adrian took the stairs two at a time.
Mara was right behind him.
“Sir, wait for the team.”
“No.”
“Adrian.”
He stopped just long enough to look at her.
“My daughter was beaten downstairs while someone is screaming behind a locked door upstairs. I’m done waiting.”
Mara exhaled through her nose.
“Then I’m going first.”
They reached the third floor.
The hallway was darker than the rest of the mansion. Half the sconces had been removed. Plastic sheeting covered two framed paintings. At the far end stood a plain white door with a brass knob.
No mold warning.
No construction tape.
Just three new locks.
The banging came again.
“Help me!”
Adrian hit the first lock with his shoulder.
Nothing.
Mara drew a compact breaching tool from her coat.
“Move.”
One strike.
The upper lock split.
Second strike.
The middle lock tore free.
Third.
The door flew inward.
A woman stumbled toward them.
She was barefoot, wearing a torn cocktail dress, one wrist red and swollen from where a plastic restraint had been cut or broken.
Adrian knew her.
“Claire?”
Claire Bennett, Victor’s executive assistant, collapsed into his arms.
“They were going to move me,” she gasped. “Tonight. They said the story had changed.”
“What story?”
She looked past Adrian toward the hallway.
“Where’s Emily?”
“Downstairs.”
Claire covered her mouth.
“Oh, God.”
Mara entered the room and stopped.
There were no toys.
No crib.
No sign the room had ever been a nursery.
There were filing cabinets.
A printer.
A folding table.
Three burner phones.
And an industrial shredder still warm from recent use.
Mara opened one cabinet.
“Adrian.”
He helped Claire sit against the wall, then crossed the room.
Inside were folders arranged by name.
Judges.
Police officers.
City council members.
Two state senators.
One federal prosecutor.
Every folder had photos, bank records, travel itineraries, medical information, or transcripts of private conversations.
Blackmail files.
Adrian reached for one marked EMILY VALE.
Claire grabbed his wrist.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if that file is still here, then Victor hasn’t finished what he started.”
“What did he start?”
Claire’s eyes filled with tears.
“He didn’t invite Emily here for a party.”
Adrian felt something cold settle in his chest.
“He invited her because he needed her signature.”
“On what?”
Claire looked toward the folder.
“On a transfer that gives him control of your company if you die.”
Adrian went perfectly still.
Mara opened the folder.
The first page was a copy of his will.
The second was a life insurance policy.
The third was a printed photograph of Adrian taken that morning.
Across the bottom, someone had written three words in red ink.
May you like
ACCIDENT — FRIDAY NIGHT.
