“Mr. Sterling knew you’d try to sneak in,” Marcus laughed, stepping toward me with the plastic restraints ready. “He’s paying me fifty grand specifically to keep you locked in the boiler room until the clock strikes nine. And it's eight-fifty-five.”
He reached for my wrists, and I braced myself for the final, humiliating defeat.
Suddenly, a deafening mechanical screech echoed through the basement.
Marcus jumped back, dropping the zip-ties as the harsh, strobe-light flashing of the building’s emergency fire system erupted in the hallway.
Standing on the metal catwalk twenty feet above us was Elena. She was holding a heavy red fire extinguisher, having just smashed it entirely through the glass of the main security override panel.
“Run, Arthur!” she screamed over the blaring alarms.
The heavy, steel emergency fire doors in the ceiling above us automatically released, beginning their slow, heavy descent to seal off the basement corridor.
Marcus looked up at the descending steel wall in sheer panic, realizing he was about to be trapped on the wrong side of the lockdown. He lunged toward the gap, completely abandoning us to save himself.
I didn't wait. I grabbed Martha, and we threw ourselves into the open freight elevator, slamming our hands onto the button for the main floor just as the doors sealed shut.
The freight elevator jolted upward, the heavy metal box shaking as we left the chaos of the basement behind.
I leaned against the cold steel wall, gasping for breath, my heart hammering fiercely against my ribs. Martha stood beside me, her hands still shaking, but her eyes were completely dry now. The sorrow over the discarded children’s drawings had hardened into something much stronger.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open.
We stepped out into the backstage catering hallway. The contrast was jarring. The air smelled of expensive truffles and poured champagne. Waiters in crisp white tuxedos rushed past us, too panicked by the muffled sound of the distant basement alarms to notice a drenched, bruised elderly couple emerging from the service lift.
Through the heavy velvet curtains ahead, I could hear the booming, amplified voice of Richard Sterling echoing across the grand ballroom.
I checked my watch. It was eight-fifty-eight.
I grabbed Martha’s hand one last time, squeezing it tight. She nodded.
I pushed through the heavy black curtains and walked directly onto the main stage.
The ballroom was breathtakingly opulent, dripping with crystal chandeliers and filled with five hundred of the city’s wealthiest elite. At the center of the stage stood a massive digital screen displaying the words: OAK & ANCHOR: THE NEW VISION.
Richard Sterling stood at the Lucite podium, wearing a tailored midnight-blue tuxedo, holding a crystal champagne flute. Next to him stood Thomas Vance, the corrupt developer, looking smug and victorious.
“And so, as we look to the future, we must trim the dead weight of the past,” Richard was saying, his voice oozing with false sincerity. “We must modernize our assets to ensure this foundation remains a towering symbol of prestige in our city.”
I walked out from the shadows, the heels of my worn brown loafers clicking loudly against the polished hardwood stage.
I stepped directly up to the secondary microphone stand set up for the evening's auctioneer.
“The assets aren't yours to modernize, Richard,” I said, my voice booming through the massive speakers, cutting him off instantly.
A collective gasp echoed across the vast ballroom. Five hundred faces turned in shock to see a soaked, bruised, elderly man in a cheap tweed jacket standing on the stage.
Richard’s face drained of color. His jaw practically unhinged as he stared at me, his eyes darting frantically toward the back doors, searching for his Ironclad mercenaries.
“Arthur,” Richard stammered, quickly trying to recover his polished smile. He leaned into his microphone, addressing the crowd with a patronizing tone. “Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse this interruption. Our beloved founder has been unwell lately. His mind is clearly confused. Security will help him back to his room.”