Chapter 3 - THE LOCKED FLOOR
Evelyn recovered quickly.
“There’s nothing beneath Carter Tower.”
The lie came smoothly.
Julian heard it too.
He stepped toward her.
“Then why are you shaking?”
“I am not.”
Her fingers were white around the chair.
I watched them.
Evelyn had always controlled her hands.
At charity dinners, funerals, lawsuits, and board meetings, nothing moved unless she wanted it to.
Now her thumb trembled against the polished wood.
Julian lowered his voice.
“Mother.”
She looked toward me.
“Not in front of her.”
I laughed once.
The sound surprised all three of us.
“You planned to have me declared incompetent, and now I’m not important enough to hear your secret?”
Julian turned on me.
“You’re not leaving this room.”
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message contained an address and a number.
CARTER TOWER. SUBLEVEL 3. LOCKER 118.
I showed neither of them.
I slipped the phone into my dress pocket.
Evelyn noticed.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“You have no idea what kind of person is contacting you.”
“Someone who knows your secrets.”
Her face hardened.
“That does not make them your friend.”
It was the first honest thing she had said.
The front door opened.
Julian’s younger brother, Grant, entered without knocking.
He wore an expensive navy coat and looked annoyed by the rain.
Then he saw the room.
“What happened?”
“Sophia attacked Julian,” Evelyn said.
Grant looked at Julian’s wrist.
Then at my bruised jaw.
His eyes paused there.
He knew.
He had known for years.
He looked away.
Julian tossed the crushed camera onto the table.
“She’s been recording us.”
Grant’s face changed.
“Recording what?”
The question came too fast.
Evelyn stepped toward him.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“Everything concerns me if it affects the company.”
I studied him.
Grant was not defending me.
He was protecting his inheritance.
Julian walked toward the bar and poured whiskey into an unbroken glass.
“You knew she had an account?”
Grant glanced at me.
“What account?”
“The one she used to move company funds.”
“I moved dividends from shares my father left me.”
Julian took a drink.
“You mean shares I manage.”
“Shares you’ve been draining.”
Silence.
Grant looked at Julian.
“What is she talking about?”
Julian smiled.
“She’s confused.”
I pulled the guardianship petition from Evelyn’s hand and held it toward Grant.
“Apparently, I’m too mentally unstable to control my inheritance.”
Grant read the first page.
His expression shifted.
“You filed this already?”
Evelyn stepped between us.
“It is temporary.”
“You told me the restructuring would happen after the shareholder vote.”
Julian’s head turned.
“What restructuring?”
Grant realized his mistake.
Evelyn closed her eyes briefly.
The family had too many lies.
They were beginning to collide.
I backed toward the hallway.
Julian noticed.
“Where are you going?”
“To change.”
“You’re not leaving.”
“I have blood on my dress.”
He looked at the crimson fabric.
The dress hid every mark.
That was why I had chosen it.
I walked toward the bedroom.
Julian followed.
I turned.
“If you touch me again, I scream until every neighbor opens their door.”
He stopped.
Not because he feared hurting me.
Because he feared witnesses.
In the bedroom, I locked the door and opened the phone.
The unknown sender had attached a blueprint of Carter Tower.
Sublevel 3 did not appear on public plans.
The elevator ended at Sublevel 2.
A handwritten note showed a service stairwell behind the parking control room.
Locker 118 was marked in red.
I called the only person I still trusted.
Nora Bennett.
My father’s former financial controller.
She answered on the first ring.
“Sophia?”
“I need help.”
Her breath caught.
“Are you safe?”
“No.”
I told her about the petition.
The camera.
The account.
The message.
When I mentioned Carter Tower, she became silent.
“Nora?”
“Your father asked me about Sublevel 3 before he died.”
My heart stopped.
“What did he say?”
“He believed the Carters were hiding physical records beneath the building.”
“What kind of records?”
“Payments. Medical settlements. Private investigations.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He died the next morning.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
My father’s death had been ruled a heart attack.
Julian was with him the night before.
Nora lowered her voice.
“Sophia, do not go there alone.”
A heavy object struck the bedroom door.
Julian.
“Sophia, open it.”
I moved toward the bathroom window.
The condominium was thirty floors above the street.
No escape.
Another blow hit the door.
The lock cracked.
Nora spoke quickly.
“I’m calling someone.”
“Not the police.”
“I know.”
The door shook again.
Julian’s voice turned calm.
“Open the door, and we can solve this privately.”
The same sentence he used before every beating.
I looked around the bedroom.
My eyes landed on the closet.
Inside, behind my shoes, was the emergency bag I had packed a month earlier.
Cash.
Passport.
Copies of my father’s trust.
A second phone.
I grabbed it.
The bedroom door burst inward.
Julian entered slowly.
His knuckles were bleeding from the broken wood.
He looked at the bag.
Then at me.
“So it’s true.”
I backed into the bathroom.
He smiled.
“You planned to run.”
“No.”
I held the second phone behind my leg.
“I planned to survive.”
He took one step closer.
The private elevator chimed outside the condominium.
Footsteps crossed the dining room.
A man’s voice called my name.
Julian froze.
I knew that voice.
May you like
Detective Aaron Hale.
The homicide detective who had investigated my father’s death.
