Chapter 6 - The White Room
12:05 a.m.
The doors of the private elevator in the Park Avenue penthouse chimed softly.
Two female paramedics in black tactical fatigues stepped out, carrying an orthopedic stretcher and a metal trauma kit. Behind them walked Marcus, his gray hair cropped short, an unlit cigar held between his teeth.
He didn't look at the white orchids or the floor-to-ceiling view of Manhattan.
He walked straight to the bathroom door, knelt down beside me, and placed his heavy, warm hand over my forehead.
"Miss Katherine," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a gentle, paternal rhythm I hadn't heard since I was ten years old. "The doctor is here. We’re taking you home to Virginia."
"Marcus..." I choked out, my teeth clicking from the shock that was finally settling into my limbs. "Julian... he has the keys to the family vault in Richmond."
Marcus pulled a small black velvet box from his coat pocket, popped the lid open, and held it out so I could see inside.
Lying on the black silk interior were six gold keys, three thumb drives, and a stamped steel safety deposit box key from Chase Manhattan Bank.
"He used to have them," Marcus corrected softly. "We retrieved them from his office safe twenty minutes ago. His secretary was very cooperative once she realized his bail would be set at twenty million dollars."
They lifted me onto the stretcher with practiced, feather-light movements.
As they rolled me down the gallery corridor, I saw two men in white overalls stepping into the living room with heavy industrial sanders and buckets of white oak floor stain.
"What are they doing?" I rasped, looking up at Marcus.
May you like
Marcus didn't turn his head.
"They're removing the floor, Miss Katherine," Marcus said calmly. "By sunrise, this apartment won't exist on the city land registry."
