Chapter 5 - The Gala and the Trap
I waited four minutes after their footsteps vanished up the stairs before slipping out of the record room.
I didn't go back to my suite. I didn't hide in the kitchen.
I walked straight up the service stairs to the head housekeeper’s administrative office behind the grand ballroom. I pulled out the red plastic folder I had taken from the vault, opened my desktop scanner, and scanned every single page—including the forged signature with the purple crayon smear—directly into an encrypted cloud server.
Then I printed three physical copies on high-grade bond paper.
At 7:00 PM, the grand ballroom of Thorne Manor was a sea of black ties, silk evening gowns, crystal chandeliers, and flowing champagne. Two hundred of the most powerful people in Alaska—senators, shipping magnates, civic leaders, and corporate investors—were circulating through the room while a string quartet played softly near the marble fireplace.
I stood near the service entrance, wearing my formal head housekeeper uniform—a crisp black tailored dress with a white collar, my hair pulled back into a neat, professional bun.
In my hands, I held a silver serving tray containing a fresh decanter of ice water and three clean crystal glasses. Beneath the linen napkin on the tray lay one of the physical printouts of the forged authorization voucher.
Across the room, Julian stood near the fireplace talking to Governor Robert Vance. Julian looked imposing, magnificent, and entirely in control of his domain. But his dark eyes were constantly moving across the crowd, evaluating every interaction.
Vanessa stood at his side, holding a glass of champagne, laughing delightedly at a joke the governor had made.
Suddenly, Julian’s personal assistant, a sharp young man named Mark, stepped up to me at the service entrance.
“Cora,” Mark whispered, his face slightly pale. “Mr. Thorne wants you in his private study on the second floor in ten minutes.”
“Did he say why?” I asked softly.
“No,” Mark said, looking nervously at the crowd. “But Miss Kilbride just asked the security detail to escort you and your daughter off the property by midnight tonight.”
My fingers tightened around the edges of the silver tray.
“Did Mr. Thorne agree to that?” I asked.
Mark looked down at his shoes. “Mr. Thorne didn't say yes, and he didn't say no. He just told Miss Kilbride he would handle the staff matters personally after his birthday toast at eight o'clock.”
A cold, hard clarity washed over me.
Vanessa was moving fast. Now that her fraudulent wires were processing through the offshore accounts, she wanted me and Ellie gone before anyone could ask questions about the mudroom wall or the forged documents.
May you like
I looked down at the silver tray in my hands.
“Tell Mr. Thorne I’ll be in his study in ten minutes,” I said quietly to Mark. “And tell him I’m bringing his birthday present.”
