Chapter 15
The following morning, the Caldwell estate was submerged in a heavy, oppressive gloom. The media had already caught wind of the abruptly canceled engagement and the police presence at the gala, swarming the main gates like a hive of angry hornets. Inside, Ethan was coordinating with his top-tier legal team to ensure Sabrina and Vance Vale were denied bail.
Grace had discarded her black-and-white maid's uniform, replacing it with highly functional tactical wear: a dark turtleneck, a fitted leather jacket, and dark slacks. She sat in the estate's central surveillance hub, her eyes glued to the monitors, repeatedly rewinding the hallway camera footage capturing the chaos outside the ballroom.
"Freeze it at frame 04:21," Grace instructed the technician. On the screen, the image of the man in the black suit standing by the secondary bar was slightly obscured by the glare of a chandelier. "Enhance his facial geometry and run it through the federal criminal database."
The system executed the facial recognition algorithm. A few minutes later, a bold red notification flashed across the screen: No Match Found.
"He’s a ghost," Grace muttered, crossing her arms. "Operatives who don't exist in the system are usually deep-cover private military contractors or the lethal remnants of foreign intelligence black-ops."
Ethan walked into the surveillance room, carrying two cups of black coffee. He handed one to Grace. "Any progress?"
"Nothing on the public or federal grids," Grace accepted the coffee, taking a slow sip. "But I’ve been analyzing his body language. The way he stands, the way he holds the phone, perfectly maintaining his distance from the crowd to avoid being bumped, keeping all exits in his peripheral vision. He is highly trained in assassination and counter-surveillance."
Ethan leaned against the control console, looking deeply stressed. "My lead attorney just called. Sabrina is in a state of absolute hysteria in holding. She is screaming for protective custody, claiming that if we don't bail her out, 'those people' are going to murder her in her cell."
"She is terrified of the organization pulling her strings," Grace deduced. "Sabrina and Vance were simply expendable pawns used to access your fortune through the marital trusts. With the operation blown, the syndicate will begin cleaning up their loose ends."
Suddenly, the secure internal phone in the surveillance room rang. Thomas picked it up, and all the color drained from the old butler's face. "Mr. Caldwell... it’s the police precinct. Vance Vale... just died in his holding cell."
Ethan and Grace exchanged a dark, chilling look. A wave of ice traveled down their spines.
"Cause of death?" Ethan asked.
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"The medical examiner claims it was an acute myocardial infarction," Thomas answered, his hands shaking. "A massive heart attack. But he was perfectly healthy yesterday."
"That wasn't a heart attack," Grace slammed her coffee cup onto the desk, her eyes blazing with absolute, terrifying resolve. "That was a targeted assassination via an untraceable neurotoxin. They are wiping the board clean. Mr. Caldwell, we have to get to Rikers Island and interrogate Sabrina immediately, before she becomes the next corpse."
