Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN IN GOLD
Evelyn lowered her hand.
“What do you want?” she asked the camera.
Celeste’s face remained expressionless.
“For you to leave Suite 1901.”
“You gave me the keycard.”
“I needed you to find Victor before Marcus moved him.”
“And now?”
“Now you understand what Marcus is capable of.”
“Why threaten my father?”
“I am not controlling the device.”
The camera angle widened.
A masked man stood behind Celeste.
A wire ran from the device in his hand to a control panel.
“You are not alone,” Evelyn said.
“No.”
“Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
The man placed one hand on Celeste’s shoulder.
She flinched.
That single movement changed Evelyn’s understanding.
Celeste was not directing the threat.
She was delivering it.
“Step away from the archive,” the masked man ordered through the speaker.
Owen guided Evelyn toward Victor’s bed.
“We leave together,” Evelyn said. “My father comes with us.”
“No.”
“Then I open the door.”
The man raised the remote.
Victor’s monitor flickered.
Evelyn stopped.
Celeste looked into the camera.
“Do what he says.”
Owen quietly disconnected a secondary cable beneath the bed while pretending to adjust Victor’s blanket.
The monitor stabilized.
He nodded almost imperceptibly.
The remote controlled only the display, not Victor’s heart.
The threat was designed to frighten them.
Evelyn stepped toward the archive again.
The masked man pressed the button.
The monitor went black.
Evelyn did not stop.
“You lied,” she said.
For the first time, the man hesitated.
Owen moved quickly.
He activated a signal jammer, cutting the camera transmission. Then he lifted Victor from the bed while Evelyn pressed her ring into the founder’s seal.
The mechanism recognized it.
The hidden door moved inward.
Cold air escaped from the darkness beyond.
Inside stood rows of metal cabinets, sealed cases, and shelves filled with old records.
At the center was a glass pedestal.
It was empty.
Whatever had once rested there had already been removed.
An envelope lay beneath the glass.
EVELYN
She opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note from Lillian.
The original ownership instrument is not kept in this room.
It is kept with the daughter Victor refused to acknowledge.
Trust the sapphire, but not the woman wearing it.
The hotel lights shut down.
Emergency lighting filled the suite with red shadows.
Owen received a message from Naomi.
MARCUS KNOWS YOU ARE INSIDE. LOCKDOWN INITIATED.
The elevators stopped.
The stairwell doors sealed.
Marcus’s voice came over the hotel’s internal speaker.
“Evelyn, you have entered a restricted medical area and endangered a vulnerable patient. Security is on its way.”
Owen lifted Victor into a wheelchair.
“Service elevator won’t respond.”
“There’s another route,” Evelyn said.
She remembered Arthur’s floor plan.
A narrow maintenance passage connected Suite 1901 to the ballroom ventilation level.
They entered moments before Marcus’s guards reached the suite.
The passage was barely wide enough for the wheelchair. Pipes rattled overhead as they moved through the darkness.
Victor regained consciousness halfway through.
“There is something you need to know,” he whispered.
“Save your strength.”
“The woman in gold.”
“Celeste?”
“She came to me months ago.”
“Why?”
“She had Helena’s sapphire.”
Evelyn stopped.
“Is she Helena’s daughter?”
Victor looked terrified.
“She said she was.”
“You didn’t believe her?”
“I demanded proof.”
“What proof did she show you?”
“A birth certificate. Letters from Lillian. A blood test.”
“And?”
Victor’s voice broke.
“She is not Helena’s daughter.”
“Then who is she?”
Before he could answer, an explosion of sound came from the passage behind them.
The metal access door had been forced open.
Owen pushed the wheelchair forward.
They reached the ventilation level above the ballroom, where workers were preparing decorations for the centennial celebration.
Naomi waited with medical assistance near a service exit.
Evelyn remained beside Victor as the doctor examined him.
“Tell me who Celeste is.”
Victor reached for her wrist.
May you like
“She is the reason your mother died.”
Then his eyes closed.
