Chapter 4 - THE BRIDAL SHOWER TRAP
The private dining room at Le Cirque was bathed in the warm, golden glow of crystal chandeliers. Laughter, clinking crystal champagne flutes, and polite applause filled the air as Celeste Wade opened another lavish gift—a set of hand-blown Italian crystal dessert plates from one of Manhattan’s elite socialites.
"Oh, Celeste, they're exquisite!" gushed Cynthia Vance, wife of a prominent hedge fund manager, leaning across the floral centerpiece. "James really knows how to spoil you. I hear the wedding at the Plaza is going to be the social event of the season."
Celeste beamed, her face flushed with genuine excitement and triumph. She tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, letting the diamond tennis bracelet James had given her for her birthday catch the chandelier light. "Thank you, darling. James is... well, you know how focused he is on his work right now with the upcoming tech merger, but he makes sure I have everything I could possibly ever want."
Sitting three tables away, half-hidden behind a massive arrangement of white orchids and hydrangeas, sat Thomas Keane disguised in a discreet waiter’s uniform, his earpiece humming softly as he monitored the room's communication signals.
Through the secure earpiece, James’s voice came through, calm and measured from his office downtown. "Status, Thomas?"
"She’s basking in the adulation, boss," Thomas murmured into his shirt cuff, pretending to pour sparkling water into an empty glass. "Her phone has buzzed four times in the last twenty minutes. Each time, she steps away toward the powder room to check the messages. We intercepted the packets through our stingray relay. They’re coming from a burner device registered to Richard Sterling’s chief of operations."
"What do the messages say?" James asked.
"Confirmation of the escrow wire," Thomas replied, his eyes locked on Celeste as she excused herself from the table with a dazzling smile and headed down the carpeted hallway toward the private restrooms. "The funds are locked in a holding account. The moment the merger documents are signed on the Monday following the wedding, the money releases, and her fifty-percent proxy transfer goes live."
"She’s cutting it close," James noted coldly. "The wedding is in twelve days."
"Greed makes people sloppy," Thomas said, watching Celeste slip into the hallway. "She thinks she’s untouchable because she’s managed to keep up the charade for six months without a single slip-up."
Inside the marble-tiled powder room, Celeste locked the heavy oak door behind her. Her hands were slightly trembling—not from fear, but from the intoxicating rush of absolute power. She pulled her phone from her designer clutch, her fingers flying across the screen.
All systems go, she typed to the burner number. The wedding is locked. The board vote is scheduled for forty-eight hours after the ceremony. Once he signs the proxy waiver, the company is ours. Do not contact me again until the wedding night.
She hit send, let out a long, shuddering breath of exhilaration, and stared at her reflection in the gilded antique mirror. She adjusted her lipstick, practiced her radiant, loving fiancée smile one more time, and turned the brass handle to walk back out into the adoring crowd.
She didn't see the small, dark figure standing quietly near the service alcove across the hall.
Maya had been sitting on a low wooden bench near the coat check for the past twenty minutes, allegedly coloring in her new sketchbook, but her sharp, observant eyes had tracked Celeste’s every movement. As Celeste walked past, her head held high and triumphant, Maya looked down at her open notebook.
With steady, deliberate strokes, she wrote: 7:42 PM. Red coat lady. Bathroom. Phone call. Looked happy.
When Celeste disappeared back into the dining room, a tall man in a dark suit stepped out from the shadows of the service corridor and walked over to the bench. It was Thomas. He crouched down beside the little girl, looking at her notes.
"Did you see her face when she came out?" Thomas asked quietly.
Maya looked up, her dark eyes reflecting the warm lobby lights. "She looked like she had a secret she couldn't wait to unwrap," Maya said simply. "Like when my cousin gets the biggest present under the tree because he was the only boy, even though he broke the window."
Thomas smiled grimly. "That’s a very accurate description, Maya. Come on, your mom is finishing up the downstairs prep. Let's get you home before it gets too late."
Maya closed her notebook, slipped it into her purple backpack, and stood up. "Mr. Foster is going to be very sad, isn't he?" she asked softly as they walked toward the staff exit.
May you like
Thomas paused, looking down at the child. "Mr. Foster stopped being sad three days ago, Maya," he said softly. "Now, he's just getting ready for the storm."
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