Chapter 4 - The SafeThere are moments when fear makes the world move faster.
There are others when everything slows down.
The photograph of my open office safe did both.
“Serena?”
Margaret had followed me into the lobby.
I showed her the phone.
“What’s in the safe?”
“Original shareholder agreements. My mother’s trust documents. Backup authentication hardware.”
Margaret’s face tightened.
“Authentication for what?”
“Our corporate reserve accounts.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-three million.”
She swore.
I had never heard Margaret Ellis swear before.
Naomi answered on the first ring.
When I explained, she didn’t waste time reacting.
“Do not go to the office.”
“I’m already going.”
“Serena.”
“Daniel is there.”
“Which is exactly why you should not be.”
“Naomi, if he has the security key—”
“He needs secondary authorization.”
“Mine.”
“Yes.”
“He forged it yesterday.”
Silence.
Then Naomi said, “I’m contacting the bank and police.”
Rebecca appeared beside us.
“Where is my son?”
I looked at her.
“At my office.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“He is my son.”
“Which is why you shouldn’t.”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“That is exactly why I should.”
Thirty minutes later, the three of us arrived across the street from Blake & Rowe’s Manhattan headquarters.
Police had been called, but Naomi warned us that corporate fraud accusations involving an executive were complicated. Unless officers had evidence of immediate theft or forced entry, they might not storm a building because a spouse suspected financial misconduct.
Fortunately, we had something simpler.
The building’s security director, Thomas Reed, called me.
“Ms. Blake?”
“Tom.”
“Mr. Sloan is upstairs with Ms. Hart.”
Daniel used his surname professionally: Daniel Sloan.
My company never carried his name.
Now I was grateful.
“Did they force entry?”
“No. Mr. Sloan’s executive badge still works.”
“Not anymore. Disable both badges.”
A pause.
“Done.”
“Can you see them?”
“Camera seventeen. Executive floor.”
Margaret opened the security feed on her phone.
Daniel and Camille were inside my office.
Camille paced near the window.
Daniel stood at my desk with a laptop.
My safe was open behind him.
We could hear audio.
“You said she wouldn’t know until Monday,” Camille snapped.
“I didn’t expect you to attack her in a hotel full of cameras.”
“She deserved it.”
“You ruined the timing.”
“Oh, I ruined the timing?”
Camille stopped pacing.
“I spent fourteen months helping you.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. I lied to reporters. I moved documents. I met Victor. I created half those consulting contracts.”
Rebecca made a sound beside me.
Daniel turned toward Camille.
“Keep your voice down.”
“Why? Serena probably has microphones in the ceiling too.”
Camille walked closer.
“You promised me I’d run communications after Victor took over.”
“You will.”
“And you promised Serena would be gone.”
Rebecca stared at me.
Gone.
The word hung in the car.
Margaret whispered, “What does that mean?”
I didn’t know.
On-screen, Daniel looked irritated.
“She would have resigned after the board vote.”
“That’s not what you said in Miami.”
“Camille.”
“You said once we had enough evidence that grief made her unstable, nobody would trust her.”
My skin prickled.
Suddenly dozens of moments rearranged themselves in my memory.
Daniel telling people I wasn’t sleeping.
Daniel mentioning my forgetfulness.
Daniel taking meetings on my behalf.
Daniel repeatedly suggesting I postpone public appearances after my mother died.
It had seemed like concern.
It had been preparation.
Camille continued.
“And what about the medication?”
Rebecca turned toward me sharply.
“What medication?”
I could barely speak.
Daniel’s voice became low.
“Stop talking.”
“No. You don’t get to panic now.”
“What medication?” I whispered.
Three weeks after Mom died, Daniel had encouraged me to see a physician because I wasn’t sleeping.
The doctor prescribed mild sleep medication.
Daniel brought me tea every night.
For a week, I had experienced strange headaches and periods of fogginess.
I stopped taking the pills.
The symptoms vanished.
At the time, I blamed grief.
My hands turned cold.
On-screen, Camille laughed bitterly.
“You were perfectly happy letting everyone think she was falling apart when it helped you.”
“Nothing dangerous happened.”
“Because she stopped drinking the tea.”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
Margaret immediately called Naomi.
“We need police here now.”
I couldn’t look away from the screen.
Daniel moved toward Camille.
“You’re upset. I understand. But we need to complete the transfer.”
“Then do it.”
“I need Serena’s token.”
“You have it.”
“No. She replaced it.”
A tiny spark of satisfaction cut through my fear.
Three days earlier, Naomi had advised me to replace the hardware authentication token while leaving the original in the safe.
The one Daniel had stolen was dead.
Camille stared at him.
“You said tonight was guaranteed.”
“I said I had a plan.”
“That’s your problem, Daniel. You always have a plan until Serena moves first.”
He slammed his hand against the desk.
Camille flinched.
So did Rebecca.
Daniel had never hit me.
Not once.
But I had never seen that expression either.
Suddenly he looked toward the office camera.
His face went still.
“He knows,” I said.
Daniel walked toward it.
The screen went black.
Tom’s voice came through the phone.
“He disabled seventeen.”
“Other cameras?”
“Hallway still active.”
We switched feeds.
Daniel emerged carrying a document case.
Camille followed.
They reached the elevator.
Nothing happened.
Badge disabled.
Daniel punched the button again.
Then looked toward the emergency stairwell.
“Police are three minutes out,” Naomi said through Margaret’s phone.
Daniel pushed open the stairwell door.
Camille followed.
Tom switched cameras.
Floor thirty-one.
Thirty.
Twenty-nine.
They were descending.
Then, suddenly, Camille stopped.
Daniel turned.
Even without audio, we saw the argument.
Camille pointed upward.
Daniel shook his head.
She tried to take the case.
He pulled it away.
Then Camille shoved him.
Daniel pushed back.
Hard.
She struck the wall.
Rebecca gasped.
Daniel froze.
Camille stared at him.
Whatever loyalty remained between them disappeared in that instant.
She ran back upstairs.
Daniel continued down.
“Where does that stairwell exit?” I asked.
“Loading dock,” Tom said.
We were across from the front entrance.
Daniel wasn’t coming through the front.
I opened the car door.
Margaret grabbed my arm.
“Absolutely not.”
“He’s getting away.”
“Let the police catch him.”
But Daniel didn’t emerge.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
Police entered the building.
Officers found Camille sitting on the twenty-ninth-floor stairwell, crying.
Daniel was gone.
The document case was gone too.
“How?” I demanded.
Tom checked the cameras.
Loading dock.
Nothing.
Parking garage.
Nothing.
Finally, a security guard remembered the construction corridor connecting the building to an adjacent renovation site.
Daniel knew the building better than most employees.
He had helped negotiate our lease.
By midnight, police had his description.
Naomi had frozen corporate accounts.
His credit cards were flagged.
His passport number was circulated.
For the moment, the company was safe.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I sat inside my office staring at the open safe.
Rebecca stood behind me.
“I need to ask you something.”
I looked at her.
“If Daniel did something to your medication…”
“I don’t know what happened yet.”
She nodded.
Tears filled her eyes, though she refused to let them fall.
“When his father left us, Daniel was fourteen. He became obsessed with never being powerless. I thought ambition saved him.”
She looked toward the doorway.
“I think I mistook control for strength.”
A detective entered.
“Ms. Blake?”
“Yes?”
“We recovered Ms. Hart’s phone.”
“And?”
“She’s willing to cooperate.”
I stood.
“About Daniel?”
“About everything.”
He hesitated.
“But she says she’ll speak only if you’re present.”
“No.”
The answer came from Naomi.
I hadn’t realized she had entered.
“Serena is a victim and potential witness. She is not sitting in an interrogation with Camille Hart.”
The detective nodded.
“Fair enough.”
He started to leave.
Then stopped.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“Ms. Hart says Daniel didn’t create Orion.”
The room went silent.
“She claims someone else approached him.”
“Victor Rowe?”
The detective shook his head.
“No.”
My pulse changed.
“Then who?”
He glanced at his notebook.
“She gave us a name.”
He said it.
And every thought in my head disappeared.
Because the person Camille named was someone I had trusted almost as much as Daniel.
Someone who had access to my company.
Someone who had sat at my mother’s funeral.
Someone currently serving on my board.
Margaret Ellis.
I slowly turned.
May you like
Margaret was standing three feet behind me.
And she looked just as shocked as I felt.
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