Chapter 2 - THE MANAGER’S SECOND FACE
“Lock the private offices. Nobody signs anything tonight.”
Margaret’s voice carried through the silent dining room.
It wasn't a request. It was an order from a woman who had spent forty years commanding boardrooms.
Mr. Lawson, the general manager who had worked for Margaret for over a decade, hesitated.
He didn't pull out his master keys. He didn't move toward the door.
Instead, he looked at Graham.
That was the first red flag.
“Lawson,” Margaret said, her tone sharp enough to cut glass. “Did you hear me?”
“Mrs. Whitmore,” Lawson said, his voice terribly calm. “I think Graham is right. The stress of the evening is getting to you. Perhaps you should go with these gentlemen.”
He gestured to the two men in dark uniforms.
The ones carrying the black medical bag.
My heart hammered against my ribs. Lawson wasn't just a bystander. He was in on it.
Graham looked pale, sweating under the crystal chandeliers. “Grandma, please. Don't make a scene in front of the board members. Just go with the transport team.”
Paige stepped forward, her red satin gown rustling. She signaled the two men.
They moved toward Margaret.
I didn't think. I just moved.
I stepped directly in front of the seventy-eight-year-old woman, holding my silver serving tray like a shield.
“Don't touch her,” I said.
The larger of the two men sneered. “Step aside, buddy. You’re a waiter.”
“And you're trespassing,” Margaret said from behind me.
She pulled out her cell phone. “I am calling the Chicago Police Department. Let's see how quickly a patrol car arrives for a kidnapping in progress.”
Paige’s eyes widened. “Grab her phone!”
The man lunged.
I shoved the heavy silver tray directly into his chest. He stumbled backward, knocking over a crystal champagne tower.
Glass shattered across the hardwood floor.
The guests gasped. Several board members stood up, looking horrified.
“Enough!” Margaret commanded.
She looked at Lawson, then at Graham.
“If any of you lay a hand on me, or this young man, the headline tomorrow won't be about my retirement. It will be about my grandson assaulting me on my birthday.”
Graham swallowed hard. He raised a hand, signaling the men to stop.
“Paige,” Graham whispered. “This is out of control. We need to stop.”
“We can't stop,” Paige hissed, her eyes venomous. “The buyers are downstairs.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed. “I'm going to my office. Adam, you are coming with me.”
I nodded.
We turned our backs to them and walked out of the private dining room. My hands were shaking, but Margaret walked with perfect posture.
The hallway outside was eerily quiet.
“They want the original deed,” Margaret whispered as we hurried toward the executive elevator. “It's the only way they can finalize a sale tonight without going through probate court.”
We reached her office on the top floor.
The heavy mahogany door was already unlocked.
Margaret pushed it open.
The office had been ransacked.
Filing cabinets were ripped open. Papers covered the Persian rug. The portrait of her late husband was crooked on the wall.
“They were already up here,” I said, sick to my stomach.
“Let them look,” Margaret said calmly. She walked to the bookshelf, pulling a worn leather copy of Great Expectations.
Behind it was a keypad. She punched in four numbers.
A hidden wall safe popped open.
Margaret reached inside.
Her face went pale.
“It's gone,” she whispered.
I stepped closer. The safe was empty, except for one thing.
A silver money clip.
It was engraved with the initials D.L.
David Lawson. The general manager.
May you like
He hadn't just betrayed her; he had already stolen the deed.
And suddenly, the heavy office door slammed shut behind us, and the deadbolt locked from the outside.
