Chapter 7 - The Masquerade of LiesThirty-six hours later. The Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel.
The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume, French champagne, and unimaginable wealth. Over five hundred of Chicago’s highest-society elites walked across the marble floor, dressed in elaborate silk gowns, tailored tuxedos, and ornate Venetian masks.
Up on the mezzanine, string quartets played classical melodies while high-definition screens projected Titan Ventures’ massive corporate logo.
Nobody noticed the two catering staff members moving quietly near the main service kitchen.
I wore a black server’s vest, a bow tie, and a silver Venetian half-mask that concealed the top half of my face. Beneath my vest, my bad knee was tightly strapped in a high-grade military brace Mrs. Wilson had procured for me.
Beside me, dressed in a sweeping black velvet gown with a delicate lace mask that covered her distinctive eyes, was Lauren.
"Julian is on the VIP balcony," Lauren whispered, leaning close as if asking for another glass of champagne. "He’s surrounded by three guards, including Kane."
I scanned the upper level. Julian Vance stood near the gold-trimmed railing, holding a crystal glass, chatting effortlessly with city council members and high-ranking police officials. Kane stood two paces behind him, his earbud glowing faint blue, his hand resting inside his jacket.
"The server room is on the lower level," I said quietly. "If we plug the USB drive directly into the hotel’s main media feed, it will override the broadcast screens in this ballroom and stream the ledger evidence directly to every news network linked to the gala’s live feed."
"I need to get his biometric thumbprint first," Lauren reminded me, her voice tight. "The drive is double-encrypted. Without his physical touch on the scanner, the files remain locked."
"How are you going to get close enough to thumbprint him without Kane shooting you on sight?" I asked.
Lauren reached into her small clutch purse, pulling out a tiny, silver aerosol canister no larger than a lipstick tube.
"A high-concentration nerve-numbing agent," she murmured. "One spray in his face, and his muscles lock up for sixty seconds. Enough time to press his hand to the scanner. But I need you to create a distraction big enough to draw Kane and his men away from the balcony."
"A distraction?" I smiled under my silver mask. "Ms. Bennett, creating chaos is my specialty."
I stepped away from her, blending smoothly into the crowd of servers. I maneuvered toward the main electrical control closet behind the kitchen staging area. Using my master key set, I slipped inside.
I didn't cut the lights—that was too predictable. Instead, I jammed a heavy screwdriver into the main fire-suppression override circuit, manual bypass sequence 4-4-2.
Suddenly, every emergency alarm in the Drake Hotel began to blare.
WAAAH! WAAAH! WAAAH!
The massive overhead ceiling sprinklers exploded into life, raining thousands of gallons of cold water down onto five hundred billionaires, screaming heiresses, and ruined ten-thousand-dollar gowns.
Panicky chaos erupted instantly. The crowd surged toward the main doors, pushing against security officers.
Through the artificial downpour, I saw Kane frantically barking orders into his radio, gesturing for his men to secure the exits.
Julian Vance was left standing on the VIP balcony alone, clutching the railing in fury as water ruined his tux.
Lauren moved like a shadow.
She glided up the carpeted stairs behind him, pulling the silver aerosol canister from her purse.
"Hello, Julian," she whispered in his ear.
Julian spun around, his eyes widening in absolute horror. "Lauren?! You're—"
Before he could finish, Lauren sprayed the chemical mist directly into his face.
Julian gasped, his eyes rolling back as his legs instantly lost strength. He collapsed against the gold railing, completely paralyzed, unable to speak or move his arms.
Lauren grabbed his limp right hand, pulling out the encrypted USB drive, pressing his thumb firmly against the glass scanner.
BEEP. ACCESS GRANTED. DECRYPTION COMPLETE.
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"Got it," Lauren hissed, turning to run toward the lower level.
HOOK: But as she turned, a heavy hand grabbed her by the hair—Marcus Kane, his eyes bloodshot and crazed, dragging her back toward the railing, pointing his pistol straight at her heart as he roared through the siren noise: "GAME OVER, BENNETT!"
