THE MAID, THE GHOST, AND THE PENTHOUSE SECRETS

The harsh glare of tactical flashlights pinned Lena to the altar. The command to drop the weapon echoed like thunder in the silent church.

For a split second, panic seized her. She looked at Adrien, bleeding heavily on the floor, and Viko, gasping for breath a few feet away. If the police arrested them now, Viko’s men inside the department would ensure Adrien never made it to a cell, and Leo would be thrown into the system—or worse, handed over to Viko’s loyalists.

“Lena,” Adrien rasped, his voice barely audible over the approaching boots. “Drop it.”

She let the heavy Sig Sauer clatter to the stone floor and raised her trembling hands.

Half a dozen officers swarmed the sanctuary. Two kicked Adrien’s discarded weapon away and aggressively zip-tied his wrists behind his back, ignoring his gunshot wound. Two others moved to secure Viko.

A tall man in a dark trench coat walked down the center aisle, moving with the lazy arrogance of a man who owned the room. Detective Miller. Lena recognized him from the news—he was the head of the Organized Crime task force.

Miller looked down at Adrien and smiled. “Well, well. Adrien Moretti. Back from the dead just in time to get arrested for murder.”

“He’s bleeding to death!” Lena shouted, stepping forward. “He needs an ambulance!”

“Shut up,” an officer barked, shoving Lena back against the altar.

Miller crouched beside Viko. He didn’t read him his rights. He didn't call for a medic. Instead, Miller leaned in and whispered something. Viko, pale and coughing blood, smirked and nodded weakly.

Lena’s stomach plummeted. Answer One, Open Two. The police weren't here to save them. They were here because Viko had called them. Miller was the corrupt cop on Viko’s payroll.

“Search the church,” Miller ordered his men, standing up. “Viko said there’s a boy. Find him.”

“No!” Lena screamed, lunging forward, but the officer grabbed her arms, pinning her back.

Adrien strained against his zip-ties, his gray eyes burning with helpless rage. “Miller, you touch my son, and I will rip your throat out.”

Miller chuckled. “You’re not in a position to make threats, ghost. Once I have the boy, you’re going to tell me exactly where Maria’s ledger is. And then, unfortunately, you’ll succumb to your injuries resisting arrest.”

“He doesn't have the ledger!” Lena blurted out, her mind racing. She had to buy time. She had to keep them away from the confessional. “I have it.”

Miller paused. He turned his dead eyes toward the blonde maid in the torn camisole. “You?”

“Yes,” Lena lied, her voice steadying. She thought of her grandfather’s poker face. “I hid it. When we ran from the diner. Adrien gave it to me, and I stashed it in a dumpster three blocks from here. You want it? You need me.”

Miller stared at her, assessing the lie. He walked over, invading her personal space, his breath smelling of stale coffee and nicotine. “If you’re lying to me, sweetheart, you’re going to suffer.”

“I’m not lying,” Lena said, holding his gaze. “But if your men go looking for the boy, I’ll never tell you which dumpster it is. Garbage pickup is in an hour. You’ll lose it forever.”

Miller hesitated. The evidence against him was in that ledger. It was his only priority. He waved a hand at his men. “Leave the kid. He can’t hurt us. Get these three in the unmarked vans out back. We’re taking a ride.”

They dragged Adrien to his feet. He swayed dangerously, blood dripping steadily from his side, but he managed to catch Lena’s eye. He gave her a fraction of a nod. A silent thank you. She had protected Leo.

They were shoved out the back doors of the church into the freezing rain and thrown into the back of a windowless police van. Adrien and Viko were tossed onto opposite benches. Lena was forced into the corner, an armed officer sitting by the door.

The van lurched into motion.

“Where are we going?” Lena asked, her voice tight.

“You’re going to show us the dumpster,” the officer sneered. “And then we’re going to the Grandeur Metropolitan Hotel.”

Lena’s blood turned to ice. The hotel.

“Why the hotel?” Adrien asked, his voice strained, fighting unconsciousness.

Viko laughed weakly from the opposite bench, pressing a bloody hand to his chest. “Because, Adrien, it’s midnight. The lieutenants are gathering in Suite 1908 right now. They think they’re coming to pledge loyalty to me. Miller is going to parade you in there in handcuffs, prove you’re a rat who got caught by the cops, and then execute you in front of them. The throne will be mine.”

Viko had planned the perfect coup. He was using the corrupt police to eliminate his rival and cement his power in front of the entire syndicate.

Lena realized her lie about the dumpster was only going to buy them a few minutes. As the van navigated the dark streets, she desperately scanned the interior for anything she could use. Her eyes landed on the officer guarding the door. His radio was clipped to his vest, but more importantly, he had a heavy iron flashlight resting on his thigh.

The van slowed down, pulling into the alley near the diner.

“Alright, girl,” the officer said, unbuckling his seatbelt and standing up. “Which dumpster?”

Lena looked at Adrien. He was watching her, his eyes heavy, his skin gray. He was dying. She couldn't wait for a miracle. She had to be the miracle.

“It’s... it’s the green one,” Lena stammered, pointing a shaking finger.

The officer leaned forward to look out the small window in the back door.

Lena didn't hesitate. She launched herself across the van.

She didn't aim for the officer’s gun. She grabbed the heavy iron flashlight from his thigh and swung it upward with every ounce of strength in her body. The heavy metal connected solidly with the officer’s jaw with a sickening crack.

The man’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed heavily onto the floor of the van.

“Lena!” Adrien gasped in shock.

Lena scrambled over the unconscious cop, grabbing his keys. Her hands shook violently as she fumbled to unlock Adrien’s zip-ties. The plastic snapped.

Adrien brought his hands forward, rubbing his raw wrists. He looked at the maid from Iowa, completely awe-struck. She had just assaulted a police officer. She had crossed a line she could never uncross.

“What are you doing?” Viko wheezed from the other bench, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Adrien didn't answer. He stood up, grabbed the unconscious officer’s service weapon, and pointed it directly at Viko’s head.

“Change of plans, Viko,” Adrien growled. “We’re still going to the hotel. But we’re crashing your meeting on my terms.”

Adrien kicked open the back doors of the van as it slowed for a red light. He grabbed Lena’s hand. “Run!”

They leaped from the moving van into the rainy street, disappearing into the neon-lit alleys of downtown Chicago, leaving Viko trapped in the back with a bleeding shoulder and an unconscious cop.

Ten minutes later, they stood in the service corridor of the Grandeur Metropolitan Hotel. Lena had used her memorized security codes to bypass the lobby. They were standing outside the service elevator leading directly to the nineteenth floor.

Adrien leaned heavily against the wall, leaving a bloody smear on the pristine cream wallpaper. He checked the magazine of the stolen police gun.

“You don't have to do this,” Lena whispered, tearing a piece of a clean hotel towel from a nearby cart and pressing it firmly against his side. “We can run. We can go back for Leo and just disappear.”

“I can't disappear,” Adrien said softly, looking down at her. He reached up, his bloodstained fingers gently brushing a piece of damp blonde hair behind her ear. “As long as Viko has influence, he’ll never stop hunting us. Hunting Leo. Hunting you.”

He held her gaze. The walls were completely gone now. The mob boss was dead; only the man remained. “I won’t let you live your life looking over your shoulder because you tried to save mine.”

Lena swallowed hard, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “If we’re doing this, we do it my way.”

She quickly typed a text message and hit send.

“Who did you text?” Adrien asked.

“Mrs. Chen,” Lena said, her jaw setting with fierce determination. “I told her VIP Suite 1908 is trashing the room and smoking cigars. She’s going to trigger the floor’s fire alarm in exactly three minutes.”

Adrien let out a weak, genuine laugh. “You’re terrifying, Lena Carter.”

The elevator doors chimed open.

They stepped onto the nineteenth floor. The plush carpet swallowed their footsteps. They walked side by side toward the heavy mahogany doors of Suite 1908. Inside were the six most dangerous lieutenants in the Chicago underworld, waiting to crown a new king.