Chapter 9 - The Trap Spung
“Arthur Price paid you?” I asked, keeping my voice steady, coaxing him to say more while keeping him distracted.
“Yes!” Greg sneered, stepping closer to me, his fists clenching. “He promised me my old job back at one of the hotel bistros if I set you up! You don't belong here, Lily! You were just a server! You’re nothing!”
Before Greg could take another step toward me, a deep, thunderous voice echoed down the concrete hallway from behind me.
“He certainly won't be giving you any job now, Greg.”
Greg froze in his tracks.
Out of the darkness behind me stepped two heavy-set floor security guards, followed immediately by Nathaniel Calder and Mason.
Mason rushed to my side, wrapping a protective arm around my waist. “Are you okay, Lily?”
“I’m fine,” I whispered, holding up my phone. “I recorded everything.”
Greg turned white as chalk. He looked wildly around the narrow corridor, realizing he was trapped between two six-foot-four security officers and the billionaire owner of the company.
Nathaniel stepped into the dim light, his steel-grey eyes fixed on the trembling former manager with utter disgust.
“You are even more foolish than I thought, Greg,” Nathaniel said coldly. “Did you really think Arthur Price would protect you? Did you really think we didn't have secondary surveillance cameras installed in the basement service corridors three days ago?”
Greg slumped against the concrete wall, dropping to his knees as tears of terror spilled down his cheeks. “Mr. Calder... please! I was desperate! Price offered me money! He said he would ruin my reference checks if I didn't do it!”
“Security, secure him and call the Chicago Police Department,” Nathaniel ordered flatly. “Hand over the surveillance footage and Miss Carter’s audio recording to the detective on duty. Press full charges for corporate sabotage, trespassing, and destruction of property.”
The two security guards stepped forward, pinning Greg’s arms behind his back and slapping heavy handcuffs onto his wrists before leading him away down the hall.
Mason immediately stepped past them to the main electrical panel. Using his engineering background, he quickly inspected the tampered breaker switches.
“The main trip valves were just flipped manually,” Mason said, pulling a master key tool from his pocket. He flipped three heavy black switches back into position. High above us, the faint, deep hum of the main refrigeration compressors roared back to life. “Power is restored. The cold storage temperature will normalize in five minutes. Nothing is spoiled.”
I let out a massive sigh of relief, leaning my head against Mason’s chest.
Nathaniel looked at Mason, giving him an approving nod. “Excellent work, Mason. Quick thinking.”
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Then, Nathaniel turned his attention to me, his dark eyes glittering with absolute, cold determination.
“Now,” Nathaniel said smoothly, adjusting his cuffs. “It’s time we pay a visit to Arthur Price.”
