Chapter 3 - Somebody Wanted the Scene
Mara caught Adrian's sleeve before he could pull his hand back.
The fabric tightened across his wrist.
"Open it," she said.
Adrian looked down at her hand, then at her face. "You're making a mistake."
"Then prove it."
Celeste stepped to Mara's side.
Grant stayed by the monitor, watching all three of them.
Adrian unfastened the jacket cuff.
Mara's breath stalled.
A silver rectangle sat at his wrist.
Plain.
No wolf.
Celeste grabbed his other sleeve.
He jerked away. "Don't touch me."
"Show her."
Adrian exposed the second cuff.
Another plain silver bar.
Mara released him.
He smoothed the fabric once. "Satisfied?"
"No."
His mouth tightened.
Good.
She wanted him irritated. People made cleaner mistakes when anger shortened their patience.
Grant tapped the frozen image. "This doesn't clear anyone. Cuff links can be changed."
Adrian looked at him. "Thank you, Leo."
The sarcasm was flat enough to cut.
Mara's phone buzzed again.
No message this time.
An incoming call.
UNKNOWN.
She answered and said nothing.
A woman's breathing filled the line.
Then a click.
Gone.
Celeste watched her. "Who was it?"
"I don't know."
Adrian held out his hand. "Let me trace it."
Mara put the phone into her clutch.
"Absolutely not."
She walked out of the archive.
Celeste followed.
Adrian called after them. "Mara, where are you going?"
"Somewhere you can't control the monitor."
The ballroom had changed while they were gone.
Guests stood in tight groups. Nobody danced. Staff had removed half the champagne glasses, as if less glassware could make the room safer.
The music had restarted, but too quietly.
Mara kept walking until she reached a side gallery lined with old Mercer portraits.
Then she turned on Celeste.
"Why did you target me?"
Celeste crossed her arms. "You already know."
"I know what you said. I want what happened before you said it."
"Meaning?"
"You didn't pick a random woman in a gray dress and spend twenty minutes trying to humiliate her. Someone gave you a reason."
Celeste's jaw set.
Mara stepped closer. "Who?"
A server passed the gallery entrance.
Celeste waited until he was gone.
Then she pulled out her phone.
"Two weeks ago, I got a message."
She opened an encrypted chat app.
The sender had no name.
First message:
ADRIAN IS BRINGING A WOMAN TO THE GALA. SHE IS NOT A GUEST. SHE IS A REPLACEMENT.
Second:
GRAY DRESS. SILVER MASK.
Mara's skin tightened across her arms.
"Replacement for what?"
"Me."
"You're engaged to him."
Celeste looked away.
There it was again.
The fraction before the answer.
"We were supposed to announce a formal succession tonight. Adrian becomes permanent chief executive. I become chair of the Mercer Foundation."
"And you thought I was taking your job?"
"At first."
Mara took the phone from her.
More messages.
SHE HAS ACCESS MARGARET NEVER GAVE YOU.
ASK ADRIAN ABOUT DENVER.
MAKE THE GRAY WOMAN SHOW EVERYONE WHO SHE REALLY IS.
The final one arrived at 8:03 PM.
MASKS MAKE PEOPLE HONEST.
Mara's thumb stopped.
"You believed this?"
Celeste's nostrils flared. "I believed Adrian was hiding something. I was right."
"So you decided to humiliate a stranger?"
"I decided to force a reaction."
"You threw champagne on my dress."
"I said I was right. I didn't say I was decent."
Mara stared at her.
It was the first honest thing Celeste had said all night.
A door slammed behind the gallery.
Both women turned.
Nothing moved.
Celeste lowered her voice. "The messages came through Mercer internal relay."
Mara looked back. "How do you know?"
"I hired someone to trace them."
"Who?"
"A security contractor."
"Where is he?"
Celeste's eyes went to the floor.
"He stopped answering yesterday."
Mara handed the phone back.
"Send me everything."
"No."
Mara almost laughed. "You just showed me."
"Showing isn't the same as giving you evidence."
"Evidence of what?"
Celeste's fingers closed around the phone. "Of me receiving restricted internal information. Do you know how that looks?"
"Like someone set you up."
"Or like I was part of it."
The words sat between them.
Mara saw Celeste regret them instantly.
"Part of what?"
Celeste stepped back.
"Nothing."
"No. Say it."
A vibration interrupted them.
Celeste checked her phone.
Her face drained.
"What?"
She turned the screen.
A new anonymous message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE KEPT HER ANGRY.
Attached was a photograph taken seconds earlier.
Mara and Celeste standing together in the gallery.
Shot from above.
Mara looked up.
A small black dome camera sat in the ceiling corner.
Celeste whispered, "That's building security."
"Then whoever is messaging you still has access."
Footsteps approached.
Adrian appeared at the end of the gallery with Victor Hale, the Mercer trust attorney.
Victor was thin, white-haired, and carrying a leather folio against his chest.
"Mara," Adrian said. "We need to talk."
"No."
Victor stepped forward. "Ms. Voss, the trust language imposes certain time-sensitive duties."
"My forged signature says otherwise."
Victor's face twitched.
Mara saw it.
"You've seen it."
He recovered fast. "I review hundreds of pages."
"That wasn't my question."
Adrian cut in. "We can solve this if everyone stops performing for five minutes."
Celeste laughed under her breath.
Mara walked away from them.
She needed her coat. Her laptop was in the pocket, along with a thumb drive containing scanned copies of old family documents she had brought for reasons she now couldn't remember without feeling stupid.
She crossed the ballroom and entered the private dressing suite assigned to women attending the gala.
Her gray coat hung where she'd left it.
The garment bag beside it did not.
Mara stopped.
She had brought a second dress because the invitation had said formal masquerade with optional costume change after midnight.
The bag had been zipped.
Now it gaped open.
She crossed the room fast.
The dress was still there.
Laptop still in the coat.
Nothing obvious missing.
Then something white slid from the inner fold of the garment bag and landed on the carpet.
A sheet of Mercer stationery.
Mara crouched.
Two lines were printed in black block letters.
YOU SIGNED ONCE.
YOU'LL SIGN AGAIN.
Her pulse hit hard behind her eyes.
She stood and grabbed the door handle.
It wouldn't turn.
She tried again.
Locked.
The lights clicked off.
Mara backed away.
A soft movement came from behind the changing screen.
Fabric against fabric.
Then breathing.
Close.
She reached for the heavy lamp on the vanity.
A hand touched the other side of the screen.
The silhouette spread five fingers against the white panel.
Mara lifted the lamp.
May you like
The locked door clicked behind her.
