Chapter 65 - The Traitor's Echo
The Grand Metropole towered over the metropolitan harbor like a monolith of glass and gold. Limousines lined up three deep beneath the glowing portico, dropping off diplomats, hedge-fund magnates, and corrupt high-society elites in black ties and diamond chokers.
Liam and I slipped into the underground valet tunnel, bypassing the exterior metal detectors using the forged diplomatic credentials Liam had maintained from his Zurich days.
"Security is concentrated on the eighty-second floor, in the Grand Ballroom," Liam whispered, scanning the building’s schematics on his wrist comm. "Elevators require retinal verification. But the service freight lift is hard-wired to the kitchen supply lines."
"The kitchen," I murmured, an ironic chill crawling down my neck. "Of course. Everything ends in a kitchen."
We forced the maintenance lock on the freight elevator and ascended in silence, the cables humming softly around us. When the doors slid open on the eighty-first floor—the staging area directly beneath the ballroom—we stepped into a labyrinth of prep tables, silver chafing dishes, and scurrying catering staff.
Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind a stainless-steel pantry rack, grabbing my bare arm.
Liam’s weapon was at the man’s throat before the assailant could even draw a breath.
"Wait! Don't shoot! Maya, please!"
It was Julian.
He looked pitiful. One eye was swollen purple, his tuxedo jacket was ripped at the lapel, and a heavy sweat drenched his forehead. He fell against a rack of crystal flutes, trembling like a beaten dog.
"You should have run while you had the chance, Julian," I said, glaring at him with utter disgust.
"She’s going to kill me, Maya!" Julian whispered frantically, tears cutting clean lines through the dirt on his cheeks. "The contract... the transfer papers. She had me sign a clause that makes me liable for Father’s 'accidental' death if anything goes wrong! She made me the scapegoat!"
"You made yourself the scapegoat the moment you kissed my sister behind my back," I retorted, stepping into his personal space, my gaze cutting like a blade. "Did you enjoy it, Julian? Did the fantasy feel good while you were selling out my family for a trust fund?"
"I was stupid! I was greedy!" he choked out, dropping to his knees and trying to grasp the hem of my dress. Liam immediately stepped between us, planting the sole of his boot onto Julian’s chest and shoving him flat onto the linoleum floor.
"If you touch her again," Liam said softly, "I won't let Victoria have the pleasure of ending you."
Julian scrambled backward, his hands held up in surrender. "I can help you! Look! Look what I stole while she was meeting with the Blackwater directors!"
From his inner breast pocket, Julian pulled a gold-plated hardware encryption key—the master cryptographic dongle required to authorize the final transaction on the ballroom stage.
"She doesn't know I took it yet," Julian gasped. "She thinks it’s in her briefcase. Take it, Maya! Just tell the feds I cooperated! Please, just give me an out!"
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I took the golden key from his trembling fingers, holding it up to the fluorescent light. "You don't get an out, Julian. You get a front-row seat to the consequences."
***
