Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the Corridor
The oak door swung open six inches.
A thin line of light from the corridor stretched across the concrete floor, illuminating the bottom legs of the record cabinets.
I held my breath, clutching the red plastic folder tightly against my chest.
A pair of high-heeled shoes stepped into the doorway. The sharp, rhythmic click-clack of Italian leather soles against concrete echoed through the silent vault.
It was Vanessa.
She was wearing a floor-length crimson silk gown for the gala, her blonde hair styled in an elaborate updo, her neck dripping with diamond jewelry that Julian had bought her for their engagement six months ago. She smelled overpowering of white lilies and expensive French perfume.
She stopped two feet inside the room, her phone pressed against her ear.
“I told you, it’s done,” Vanessa said into the receiver, her voice low, hushed, and completely devoid of the sweet, polished charm she displayed in public. “The signature was uploaded through the clearing queue at four o'clock. The offshore wire to the Nassau account will clear by midnight.”
A faint, muffled male voice answered through the phone speaker.
“No, he doesn't suspect a thing,” Vanessa hissed, stepping further into the room, her crimson silk skirt brushing against the steel filing drawers where I stood hidden in the dark. “He’s upstairs entertaining the governor. He thinks the gala is for his foundation.”
She paused, listening to the caller, then let out a sharp, cynical laugh that sent chills down my spine.
“Julian is brilliant at shipping logistics, Marcus, but he’s utterly blind when it comes to people he thinks belong to him,” she said softly, tracing her manicured fingernail along the top of a filing drawer. “He thinks I’m his social asset. He has no idea the Seward port land is already forty percent owned by Kilbride Trust. By the time we sign the marriage certificate in June, Thorne Enterprises will be liable for thirty million in environmental clearance debt, and my trust will hold the title.”
My heart was hammering so loudly in my chest I was terrified she would hear it over her phone.
Vanessa turned her head, her sharp blue eyes scanning the dark corners of the room.
“Did you clear the service corridor?” the voice on the phone asked.
“Yes,” Vanessa replied flatly. “The little girl’s ridiculous paper mess on the mudroom wall is gone. The housekeeper took photos like a dramatic little martyr, but she’s just a hired servant. She won't say a word if she wants to keep her suite upstairs.”
She paused, stepping toward the table where I had been working thirty seconds earlier.
My heart nearly stopped.
On the table lay my penlight.
Vanessa stopped two inches from the table. Her eyes drifted toward the dark corner where I stood pinned against the wall.
She raised her hand toward the light switch on the wall.
If she turned the overhead lights on, she would see me instantly.
Suddenly, a deep, powerful voice echoed down the concrete basement corridor from the stairwell.
“Vanessa?”
It was Julian.
Vanessa froze. Her posture instantly changed, her shoulders relaxing, her face softening into that practiced, angelic smile within half a second.
She turned around, stepping out of the record room back into the hallway.
“Julian, darling!” she called out, her voice dripping with warmth and affection. “I was just looking for extra linen napkins in the storage room for the catering staff.”
Julian’s heavy footsteps approached down the corridor.
“The governor is asking for you in the drawing room,” Julian said, his tone flat, calm, and unreadable. “And the catering manager said you requested an emergency wire authorization for the floral delivery.”
“Oh, yes!” Vanessa said smoothly, taking Julian’s arm as he reached the doorway. “The florists brought orchids from Hawaii instead of lilies. It was an unexpected charge, but I managed it, darling. Everything is perfect.”
“I’m sure it is,” Julian replied quietly.
I watched through the three-inch crack of the door frame as Julian walked away with her, his broad shoulders squared, his hand resting on her waist.
As they reached the end of the corridor near the stairs, Julian slowed his pace slightly. Without turning his head, he cast a single, sharp glance back over his shoulder toward the dark, open door of the record room.
May you like
His dark eyes held mine through the darkness for one fraction of a second.
He knew I was in there.
