Chapter 5 - Into the Lion’s Den
The Reed Tower scraped the Chicago sky like a needle of glass and steel. It was a monument to Jonathan’s ego, and tonight, it was a fortress Olivia had to breach.
Dressed in a sleek black coat Marcus had provided, Olivia stood in the service alley behind the tower. Her earpiece crackled.
"Okay, Olivia," Marcus's voice whispered. "I've looped the security cameras on the freight elevator. You have exactly four minutes to get to the penthouse before the system resets and the guards notice the glitch."
"I'm going in," Olivia breathed.
She slipped through the service door, her heart hammering loud enough to deafen her. She navigated the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallways until she reached the freight elevator. She swiped the cloned keycard Marcus had given her. The doors opened.
As the elevator shot up to the 60th floor, Olivia closed her eyes, trying to calm her racing pulse. She was breaking every law in the book. If she was caught, Jonathan would make sure she went to prison for life. But the image of Jonathan dragging her boys onto a plane kept her standing tall.
Ding.
The doors parted, revealing the opulent darkness of the penthouse. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city below. The sheer luxury of the space—marble floors, velvet furniture, modern art—made Olivia sick to her stomach. This was the wealth built on her suffering.
"I'm in," she whispered.
"Go to the study. Behind the painting of the storm," Marcus guided.
Olivia hurried across the thick carpets, slipping into Jonathan’s massive home office. She pulled the heavy oil painting off the wall, revealing the sleek, metallic face of the wall safe.
"Okay, the scanner is active," Olivia said.
She pressed her thumb against the glass pad. It beeped. A red light flashed, scanning her fingerprint. Then, a small mechanical arm extended, flashing a bright blue light directly into her right eye.
Please wait, the robotic voice chimed.
Olivia held her breath. What if he had removed her access? What if he realized she was a threat years ago?
Access Granted.
The heavy steel door clicked and swung open. Inside lay stacks of emergency cash, a loaded handgun, passports, and right in the center, a thick black leather notebook.
"I got it," Olivia gasped, snatching the ledger. "Marcus, I have the book."
Suddenly, the lights in the penthouse blazed on, blinding her.
"Well, well, well," a voice drawled from the doorway.
Olivia spun around, dropping the painting. Standing in the doorway of the study was Savannah, wearing a silk robe, holding a half-empty glass of champagne. Beside her stood two massive men in tactical gear. Jonathan’s private security.
"I told Jonathan you were a sneaky bitch," Savannah smirked, taking a sip of her drink. "He thought you were hiding in the slums. But I knew you'd come for the money. You poor people are all so predictable."
Olivia froze, her hand clutching the black book to her chest. "Savannah, you don't understand what this is. He's using you. He's laundering cartel money. If you stay with him, you're going down too."
Savannah laughed, a high, grating sound. "Oh, honey. I know about the cartel. Who do you think introduced him to them? My father is their lead distributor in Miami. Jonathan is just the cleanup crew."
Olivia’s blood ran cold. The influencer facade was a lie. Savannah wasn't just a trophy girlfriend; she was the cartel liaison.
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"Take the book from her," Savannah ordered the guards, her eyes turning dead and cold. "And then throw her off the balcony. We'll tell the cops she broke in, got caught, and jumped out of despair. A tragic end to a crazy ex-wife."
The two massive guards stepped forward, drawing their weapons.
