Chapter 6 - THE RED BALLROOMGrant dropped his glass. It shattered against the polished marble floor, splashing liquid and green olives across the feet of the surrounding guests.
"You..." Grant gasped, pointing a shaking finger at me. "Security! SECURITY!"
The room went dead silent. The violinists stopped playing. Dozens of high-society guests turned to stare at us.
Four armed private security guards stationed around the ballroom immediately drew their sidearms, rushing toward us.
"Plan B!" Katya’s voice barked through my earpiece. "Lena, run for the elevator! I’m cutting the power!"
Before the guards could reach us, every light in the grand ballroom extinguished simultaneously. Darkness plunged the hall into absolute chaos. Screams echoed off the high ceilings as rich guests began stampeding toward the exits.
"Now, Lena!" Vance yelled, grabbing my wrist and pulling me through the panicking crowd.
Emergency red backup lights flashed on, casting a blood-red glow over the chaos. Through the crimson haze, I saw Grant sprinting toward the elevator, trying to beat us to the vault floor.
"Not today, Grant!" I roared.
Abandoning all aristocratic grace, I kicked off my high heels, grabbed a silver ice bucket from a nearby catering table, and sprinted after him. I caught up to Grant just as he smashed his hand against the elevator call button.
I swung the ice bucket with total fury, smashing it directly into the side of Grant's jaw.
CRACK!
Grant shrieked, collapsing against the elevator doors, blood spurting from his broken nose. He slid down to the floor, groaning in agony.
I knelt over him, grabbed him by his silk tie, and pulled his bleeding face inches from mine. "That was for my son," I hissed, before delivering a sharp right hook straight to his temple, knocking him out cold.
"Elevator’s open!" Vance yelled, holding the doors.
I stepped over Grant’s unconscious body and rushed into the elevator. Vance pressed the keycard for the subterranean vault level, and the doors slid shut just as security guards opened fire into the hallway, bullets slamming harmlessly against the heavy glass of the elevator.
The elevator descended rapidly into the subterranean depths of the Consulate, stopping at Vault Level 3.
When the doors opened, we were greeted by a pristine, white corridor guarded by a massive circular titanium vault door. Standing at the terminal was a stoic Swiss vault keeper.
"Identification," the vault keeper demanded calmly, entirely unbothered by the alarm sirens echoing from the floors above.
I stepped forward, my green silk dress stained with Grant's blood. I pulled the silver key from around my neck and placed it on the counter, along with my passport.
"I am Lena Vale," I said, my voice steady and deadly serious. "I am here to access Vault 409, belonging to my deceased husband, Daniel Vale."
The keeper inspected the key, scanned my passport, and then pointed to a biometric scanner on the wall. "Place your palm on the scanner and speak your husband's full name and date of birth."
I pressed my trembling palm against the glass scanner. A blue laser swept over my skin.
"Daniel Alexander Vale," I said softly, tears threatening to break through my resolve. "October 14th, 1988."
The machine chimed softly.
[BIOMETRIC VERIFIED. ACCESS GRANTED.]
The massive titanium vault door groaned as hydraulic pumps activated, slowly spinning the heavy locking wheel. The five-ton door swung open, revealing a small, brightly lit room lined with stainless steel safety boxes.
Vance and I rushed inside. I used the silver key to open Box 409.
Inside lay a heavy black hard-drive, a stack of original financial ledgers, and a sealed manila envelope labeled: FOR LENA - IN THE EVENT OF MY DEATH.
I grabbed the envelope with shaking hands, tearing it open. Inside was a handwritten letter from Daniel, along with a certified satellite audio recording chip.
I unfolded the letter. Daniel's handwriting was frantic, shaky—written in his final days:
My dearest Lena, If you are reading this, I am already gone. I am so sorry I couldn't protect you and Eli from the monsters that share my blood. My father never died. He lives under the alias 'Victor Vance-Cross', operating Titan Global from a private estate in Monaco.
The drive contains every offshore account, every bribe, and the hit list for The Obsidian Group. But most importantly... it contains the proof of who Eli really is. Eli is not just my son, Lena. He is the sole owner of 51% of Titan Global. My father's shares were legally nullified the day he faked his death.
Take down the empire, my love. Burn it all.
Forever yours, Daniel.
Tears dripped onto the paper, smudging Daniel's ink.
"We have it," Vance breathed, looking at the hard drive. "This is enough to freeze every asset Victor owns, indict half the board of Titan Global, and put Marjorie and Grant in prison for life."
Suddenly, the lights inside the vault flickered and died.
The heavy titanium vault door began to swing shut automatically.
"Vance!" I screamed.
Vance lunged forward, throwing his leather briefcase into the door frame to jam the mechanism. The steel door slammed against the briefcase with a sickening crunch, stopping just six inches short of sealing us inside forever.
From the hallway outside, a slow, methodical clapping echoed through the darkness.
"Very impressive, Lena," a voice rasped.
Through the narrow six-inch gap of the closing door, a pair of cold, piercing blue eyes locked onto mine.
May you like
It was Victor Vale. And behind him stood six heavily armed men holding tactical assault rifles.
"Did you really think I wouldn't track Daniel's vault key?" Victor chuckled softly. "You played right into my hands. Now... hand over the drive, or I drop a tear gas canister into that vault and let you choke to death in the dark."
