But my feet wouldn’t move. The fury that had been simmering beneath my pain suddenly erupted into a blinding, white-hot roar. He had ruined my family. He had put my father in a coma. He had tried to steal my child before it was even born.
Instead of running toward the elevator, I stepped backward into the adjacent hallway—the narrow corridor that led to the linen closets and the building’s main electrical breaker room.
“Claire,” I whispered, my voice deadly quiet. “Go to the elevator. Hide in the service closet. When they leave, follow them to the garage. Get the license plate of whatever car Summer brought.”
“What about you?” she panicked.
“I’m going to get that laptop,” I said.
Before she could argue, I slipped down the narrow service hallway. My white silk skirt dragged against the dusty floor, making a faint shhh-shhh sound that felt deafeningly loud in the silence.
I hid behind the heavy metal door of the electrical closet just as the main suite doors groaned open.
I watched through the vertical grate of the closet door as Adrian and Summer stepped into the main hallway. Adrian was wearing a fresh linen suit—no blood, no dust, no sign of the nightmare he had orchestrated. Summer was dressed in a sleek designer dress, her arm looped intimately through his. In Adrian’s left hand was a leather briefcase.
The laptop was inside it.
“Did you double-check the lock on the balcony?” Summer asked, pausing near the mirrors.
“It’s fine,” Adrian said impatiently. “Let’s go. The lawyer is waiting at the club.”
They walked toward the main elevators, their voices fading as they turned the corner.
The moment they were out of sight, I stumbled out of the electrical closet. The pain in my side was agonizing now, a dull, throbbing heat that suggested my internal stitches were tearing under the strain of my movements. I gripped my stomach, my fingers sinking into the damp satin of my wedding dress, and dragged myself into the Whitmore Suite.
The room was in shambles. Half-packed suitcases sat on the luggage racks, and a crystal glass filled with amber bourbon sat on the wet bar, sweating in the humid air.
I hurried to the desk where Adrian usually kept his documents. Nothing. The briefcase was gone, but he had left something else behind.
A small, black leather notebook lay next to the hotel phone. I opened it with trembling fingers.
Inside were columns of names, dates, and numbers. And on the very last page, written in Adrian’s precise handwriting, was a list of coordinates and a phone number labeled simply: S.E. – Delivery.
My phone vibrated in my hand.
I jumped, nearly dropping it. It was a text from Claire.
They didn’t take the elevator. They’re taking the stairs toward the service exit. Adrian forgot something. He’s coming back up.
My heart stopped.
A heavy footstep echoed in the hallway outside the suite. The distinct sound of leather loafers clicking sharply against the hardwood floor.
He was coming back.
I looked around the room frantically. The suite had no other exit. The windows were sealed. The balcony door was locked. The bedroom was a dead end.
The footsteps grew closer.
“Summer, wait in the car,” Adrian’s voice called out from just outside the door. “I left the notebook on the desk. It’ll take me two seconds.”
I looked down at my dress. The white silk was a beacon in the dim room. There was no place to hide, no way to run.
The brass doorknob began to turn.
With a desperate, gasping breath, I backed toward the heavy velvet curtains lining the floor-to-ceiling windows, my hand gripping the leather notebook against my chest. As I pulled the fabric around myself, my foot struck something hard and metallic hidden behind the drape.
A heavy, industrial brass fire extinguisher.
The door swung open with a hard click.
Adrian stepped into the room.
Through the small crack in the velvet curtains, I watched him walk toward the desk. His face was twisted in a slight scowl, his eyes scanning the surface. He stopped when he realized the desk was empty.
His gaze slowly drifted down to the floor.
Right toward the faint, smeared trail of fresh, dark red blood leading directly from the doorway… to the edge of the velvet curtains where I stood.
