Chapter 6 - Confrontation at the RegencyAt 2:00 PM, wearing a tailored black suit and carrying a leather document folio, I walked through the marble lobby of the Grand Regency Hotel.
Evelyn marched beside me, accompanied by two armed private security contractors and Detective Raymond, who was dressed in plainclothes to observe the operation.
"Suite 1802," Detective Raymond whispered, checking his earbud. "Hotel security confirmed Graham Whitman and Victoria Hale checked in yesterday under alias names. They have three bodyguards inside."
"Let me speak to him first," I said. "He needs to believe he’s won until the moment the transfer clears."
We took the elevator to the eighteenth floor. The carpeted corridor was deathly quiet.
I stopped outside Suite 1802, took a deep breath, and knocked twice.
The door opened an inch, held by a safety latch. A woman with sleek blonde hair and striking blue eyes looked out at me. Victoria Hale.
"Clara," Victoria said, her voice dripping with artificial sympathy. "You really don't know when to give up, do you?"
"I'm here to sign the release, Victoria," I said, holding up the blue folder. "Evelyn advised me that I have no legal leverage left. If Graham unfreezes my personal checking account so I can pay my sister’s medical bills, I will sign the quitclaim deed for Unit 14C today."
Victoria’s eyes narrowed, scanning my face for deception. After a pause, she unlatched the door and stepped back. "Come in. But your lawyer stays in the hall."
"Deal," I said, stepping across the threshold alone.
The penthouse suite was opulent, littered with champagne bottles and open suitcases. Graham stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, a glass of scotch in his hand.
He turned around, a triumphant smirk spreading across his handsome face.
"I knew you were smart, Clara," Graham said, taking a sip of his drink. "You always were practical. You realize when you're beaten."
"You took everything, Graham," I said, letting my voice tremble just enough to play the desperate victim. "My money, my grandmother’s home, my peace of mind. My sister needs her medication. Just give me back my liquid savings, and the apartment is yours."
Graham walked over to a laptop open on the center table. The screen showed the Apex Horizon wire transfer interface—the final authorization portal.
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"Sign the quitclaim hardcopy right here," Graham ordered, pushing a pen toward me. "The moment your signature is captured on our terminal, I hit execute. You get $100,000 back for your sister. We keep the rest."
I picked up the pen. My hand was steady as rock.
