Chapter 12 - The Apartment
Mara did not cry when Dominic told her.
She became very still.
That frightened Naomi more.
"Vanessa said she found you?" Naomi asked.
"That's what everyone told me."
"Do you remember her being there before you lost consciousness?"
Mara pressed her fingers against her temple.
"Pieces."
"Don't force it."
"I remember wine. I remember arguing. She wanted the notebook. I told her copies existed."
"Did they?"
"No. I was bluffing."
Dominic sat beside her.
"Mara, why didn't you tell me Vanessa was there?"
She looked at him with exhausted disbelief.
"I did."
He stopped breathing for a second.
"What?"
"From the hospital. I called you twice. Your assistant said you were in Singapore."
Dominic looked at Naomi.
"I was in Singapore."
"Did you get the messages?"
He shook his head.
"Who was your assistant?" Naomi asked.
Dominic already knew.
"Vanessa. She was coordinating my schedule that month because my executive assistant was on maternity leave."
The shape of the story changed again.
Not one act.
Not one cover-up.
A system built from proximity.
Phones answered.
Messages filtered.
Cameras disabled.
Staff isolated.
Naomi's old world called it access control.
Vanessa called it love.
Owen phoned.
Police had obtained a warrant for Victor's office.
Inside they found blank Hale Foundation badges, copies of employee files, and a hard drive.
But Victor wasn't there.
"One more thing," Owen said. "The hard drive has a folder with your name on it."
Naomi closed her eyes.
"Of course it does."
"There are surveillance photos. Your apartment. Grocery store. Bus stop. Dates going back five weeks."
Dominic stood.
"She was watching Naomi before tonight?"
"Yes."
Naomi walked to the window.
That explained the timing.
Vanessa hadn't attacked a random maid and discovered too late that she had a past.
She had known exactly who Naomi was.
So why provoke her publicly?
Naomi replayed the ballroom moment.
Vanessa's kick.
The cameras.
The 300 guests.
The panic after Naomi caught her ankle.
Something didn't fit.
If Vanessa wanted Naomi discredited, there were quieter ways.
Unless the kick wasn't the plan.
Unless Naomi had interrupted something.
"What was on the dessert table?" she asked.
Dominic frowned.
"What?"
"When Vanessa kicked me, I was carrying champagne past the west dessert station. She wasn't looking at me before I stepped in front of her. She was looking behind me."
"At what?"
Naomi remembered.
A young server.
A silver tray.
A cream envelope beneath the napkins.
Naomi called Owen.
"Find the server who worked west dessert. Her name is Jules."
Owen was silent.
Then: "Naomi... Jules never clocked out."
"Where is she?"
"We don't know."
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