Chapter 8 - The Woman Wearing Sloane’s Face
The Ashcroft Hotel had once been Sloane’s grandmother’s favorite property.
Evelyn Whitmore had restored its limestone exterior, reopened its historic ballroom and insisted that the original brass service elevators remain untouched. She believed buildings remembered every person who tried to change them.
At eleven-thirty that night, Sloane entered through the hotel’s private garage.
Naomi wanted the police to manage the operation. The detectives agreed to watch the meeting, but they warned Sloane not to approach Bryce directly.
She accepted their instructions.
Then she prepared for Bryce to anticipate them.
Gavin monitored the hotel’s security system from a room across the street. Adrian worked beside him, tracing any attempt to access company servers during the meeting.
Emilia remained at the mansion with Marlene.
Sloane waited in an empty office behind the hotel’s service corridor. Through a narrow window, she could see the entrance where Bryce expected to meet the woman.
At midnight, a black car stopped near the loading dock.
A woman stepped out.
For one disorienting second, Sloane believed she was looking at a reflection.
The woman had the same height, the same dark hair and the same controlled posture. She wore a cream coat identical to one Sloane had owned the previous winter.
Her face was not identical at close range, but under security cameras, at night, she could easily have been mistaken for Sloane.
Bryce arrived two minutes later.
He carried a small case.
The woman approached him.
“You’re late.”
“You should be grateful I came.”
“You should be grateful I kept the original.”
She removed an envelope from her coat.
“Where is the rest of my money?”
“After the board meeting.”
“No. Tonight.”
Bryce looked around.
“You were already paid to enter the vault.”
“I was paid to appear on camera. You did not tell me you were stealing from your wife.”
“I did not steal anything.”
“You used me to frame her brother.”
“You never met Gavin.”
“I wore Sloane’s coat. I used her identification. I entered her company and stood where your cameras could see me.”
“You performed a service.”
“I committed a crime.”
Bryce’s voice lowered.
“And now you want to be paid for your silence.”
The woman held up the envelope.
“This is the page you wanted. Your father’s name is on it.”
Sloane felt a chill.
The private ledger.
Bryce reached for the envelope.
The woman pulled it back.
“Money first.”
Bryce opened the case.
Inside were bundles of cash.
The woman leaned closer.
“You said the house was worth twenty million.”
“It will be worth more after the city contract.”
“And Sloane?”
“She will be removed from the company tomorrow.”
“What if the court rejects your reports?”
“It won’t.”
“What if she proves they are false?”
Bryce smiled.
“She will not be available to prove anything.”
Sloane’s breath stopped.
The police detective listening through her earpiece whispered, “We have the threat. Remain where you are.”
Then the fire alarm activated.
Red lights flashed through the service corridor.
The listening device filled with static.
People emerged from kitchens and offices. Employees moved toward the exits.
Bryce grabbed the envelope.
The woman shouted.
Sloane left the office despite the detective’s warning.
By the time she reached the loading dock, Bryce was gone.
The woman was on the floor beside the black car. She appeared dazed but conscious. A hotel employee called for medical assistance.
The envelope had disappeared.
Sloane knelt beside the woman.
“What is your name?”
The woman looked up and froze.
Seeing Sloane at close range seemed to terrify her.
“Claire,” she whispered. “Claire Mason.”
“Who activated the alarm?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did Bryce go?”
Claire pointed toward the service elevator.
Sloane ran.
The elevator doors were closing when she reached them.
She caught a glimpse of Bryce inside.
He held the envelope.
Martin stood beside him.
The doors closed.
Sloane pressed the call button, but the elevator continued upward.
Her phone rang.
Gavin.
“Bryce accessed the executive server,” he said. “Someone is deleting archived files.”
“Can you stop it?”
“Adrian isolated the server, but there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The deletion command didn’t originate from Bryce’s account.”
“Whose account?”
“Marlene’s.”
Sloane stopped moving.
“Marlene is at the mansion.”
“Then someone is using her credentials.”
“Can you identify the location?”
A pause followed.
“The command came from the Ashcroft.”
Sloane looked toward the service elevator.
Marlene had claimed she remained at the mansion.
Sloane called the security guard assigned to her.
No one answered.
She called Emilia.
Emilia answered on the first ring, breathing hard.
“Marlene is gone,” she said.
“How?”
“She said she needed medication. When the guard opened the door, someone struck him from behind.”
“Did you see who?”
“No.”
“Where are you now?”
“In the locked library.”
“Stay there.”
“There’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
“I found a photograph in Marlene’s room.”
Sloane heard paper moving.
“It shows Bryce as a child standing outside your mansion.”
“That’s impossible. He told me he first visited the house after we met.”
“He was here before.”
“With whom?”
Emilia’s next words were almost lost beneath the alarm.
“Your grandmother.”
The service elevator doors opened again.
No one was inside.
May you like
On the floor lay the torn envelope.
The ledger page was gone.
