“Tell me, Arthur,” Evelyn said, her tone conversational, yet dripping with a lethal chill. “Is this the standard of hospitality your middle management usually offers to incoming board members?”
The lobby went dead silent again. The junior analyst with the coffees dropped one; it hit the floor with a muted thud, splattering brown liquid across the white marble, but nobody looked.
Chloe froze for a fraction of a second. Then, she threw her head back and let out a loud, mocking laugh that echoed unpleasantly off the high glass ceilings.
“A board member?!” Chloe shrieked, wiping a tear of amusement from her eye. She looked around at the crowd, expecting them to join in the joke, but the employees were staring at her with mounting horror. “Oh, that is rich! That is the most pathetic, delusional lie I have ever heard! You? On the board of Directors? Do you even know what this company does?”
“Chloe, I am begging you—” Arthur gasped, finally finding his voice, though it cracked pathetically. He took a step forward, his hands raised in surrender. “Ms. Davis… Evelyn… please, she doesn't know what she's saying. I can explain. It’s been a chaotic morning—”
“There is nothing to explain, Mr. Vance!” Chloe interrupted loudly, completely steamrolling him. In her mind, she was the hero of the hour, protecting a too-soft executive from a crazy person. “She’s obviously casing the building or trying to steal corporate data! She had a fake badge!”
Evelyn slowly lowered her gaze to the broken pieces of plastic on the floor.
“It wasn't fake,” Evelyn said quietly. “And it was very expensive to program.”
“Oh, please!” Chloe sneered, losing the last bit of her professional veneer. She turned to the security guards, her eyes flashing with impatient rage. “What are you waiting for?! I gave you a direct order! Grab her and throw her out onto the street!”
Marcus and the second guard didn't move. They looked at Arthur, waiting for the executive to give the final word. But Arthur was frozen, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish, unable to formulate a sentence that could save his career.
“Fine!” Chloe spat, absolutely furious that her authority was being questioned. “If security won’t do their damn jobs, the police will.”
Without warning, Chloe lunged forward. She reached out and snatched the heavy black walkie-talkie right off the shoulder strap of Marcus’s uniform.
The guard jumped back, startled. “Hey! You can’t—”
“Watch me,” Chloe snapped, gripping the radio tightly. She pressed her thumb hard against the side button, raising it to her mouth.
Arthur’s eyes bulged out of his head. The sheer panic finally overrode his paralysis. He lunged forward, throwing his hands out in a desperate, frantic attempt to stop her.
“Chloe, for God’s sake, put that down!” Arthur screamed, his voice tearing through the quiet lobby.
Arthur Vance, a man whose daily physical exertion consisted solely of walking from his chauffeured town car to his corner office, moved with a sudden, frantic violence.
He lunged across the three feet of polished marble separating him from his mid-level marketing manager. His large hand clamped down over Chloe’s just as her manicured thumb pressed hard against the transmit button on the side of the heavy black walkie-talkie.
A sharp burst of radio static echoed through the quiet lobby, immediately followed by the muted thud of Arthur physically wrestling the device out of her grip.
Chloe gasped, staggering back a half-step in her black pencil skirt. Her eyes went wide with shock and deep offense.
“Mr. Vance!” Chloe cried out, her voice a mix of indignation and profound confusion. She instinctively rubbed her hand where his fingers had gripped her. “What are you doing? I’m trying to call the police!”
Arthur didn't look at her. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving under his tailored charcoal suit, a thin layer of cold sweat glistening on his forehead. He shoved the walkie-talkie back into the chest of the large security guard, Marcus, who took it with a stunned, hesitant nod.
“Stand down,” Arthur ordered the guards, his voice shaking violently. He swallowed hard, trying to force moisture back into his mouth. “Do not call anyone. Nobody touches that radio. Do you understand me?”
Marcus looked at his partner, then down at the two halves of the shattered VIP card still lying on the floor. He had worked corporate security for twelve years. He knew the difference between a routine trespasser and a catastrophic executive meltdown. Marcus took a slow, deliberate step backward and folded his hands in front of his belt.