Chapter 2 - THE INVISIBLE GIRL
The heavy metal locks clicked into place, sealing the forty-second floor from the rest of the world.
Darkness swallowed the private dining room.
Panic erupted instantly.
A chair crashed to the floor. Glass shattered against marble. Someone screamed, the sound sharp and raw in the enclosed space.
Nora didn’t move.
Her breath caught in her throat. She stood perfectly still behind the service station, her fingers digging into the polished mahogany edge.
You should have stayed invisible.
Vivienne’s whisper still echoed in Nora’s ears. It hadn’t been a threat. It was a promise.
A heavy thud shook the floorboards. The sound of a body hitting the ground.
Then came a sickening crack, followed by a low groan.
Adrian’s security team. They were fighting back. But they were fighting blind, trapped in a room where the attackers had memorized the layout.
Nora dropped to her knees, making herself as small as possible. The thick velvet tablecloth of the service station draped over her, offering a fragile shield.
She needed to breathe. She needed to think.
Her father’s voice, raspy and smelling of cheap whiskey, drifted into her memory.
When the lights go out, Nora-bird, don't run for the door. Everyone runs for the door. You look for the draft. The draft tells you where the real exit is.
She closed her eyes.
The dining room had the main double doors. Locked.
The private VIP entrance. Locked.
The service elevator. Locked.
But there was one more exit. A flaw in the Vesper Crown’s flawless design.
The linen chute.
It was hidden behind a faux-wood panel in the butler’s pantry, barely three feet wide. It dropped straight down to the laundry facility on the fortieth floor.
It was meant for dirty tablecloths. Not people. But Nora was small enough.
Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth.
Nora thrashed, her heart exploding against her ribs. She drove her elbow backward, aiming for ribs.
The body behind her absorbed the blow without a sound. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides.
“Stop,” a voice whispered directly into her ear.
Deep. Calm. Familiar.
Adrian Blackwood.
Nora froze.
He slowly released his hand from her mouth.
“You know a way out of this room,” Adrian whispered. It wasn’t a question.
“How do you—” she started.
“Because you warned me,” he interrupted quietly. “You saw the pieces moving before I did. If you saw the trap, you already looked for the exit. Where is it?”
Footsteps crunched on broken glass nearby. Heavy boots. Not the expensive Italian leather Adrian’s men wore.
“Pantry,” Nora breathed, her voice trembling. “Behind the station. But we have to cross the floor.”
“Take my hand.”
Nora hesitated. In the pitch black, she felt his large, warm hand find hers. His grip was firm, grounding.
“When the emergency light flashes again,” Adrian whispered, “we move. Don't look at them. Don't look at her. Just run.”
Ten seconds passed in suffocating darkness.
The sounds of a brutal struggle continued near the main doors. Adrian’s men were buying them time, entirely unaware that their boss was crawling behind a dessert cart.
Then, the red emergency beacon flickered to life.
The room was bathed in a bloody, pulsing glow.
Nora saw it all in a flash.
Two of Adrian’s bodyguards were on the floor, bleeding. The third was pinned against the wall by a massive man in a tactical vest.
And Vivienne?
She was sitting perfectly still at the table. She hadn’t moved an inch. She was watching the chaos with the calm detachment of someone watching a play she had written.
“Now,” Adrian ordered.
He pulled Nora hard.
They sprinted across the gap between the service station and the swinging kitchen doors.
“There!” someone shouted. A flashlight beam sliced through the red glare, sweeping toward them.
Nora threw her weight against the pantry door. It swung open, and they tumbled into the narrow, stainless-steel room.
Adrian slammed the door shut and slid the heavy metal deadbolt into place. It would only hold for seconds, but seconds were all they needed.
“Where?” Adrian demanded.
Nora scrambled toward the back wall. She pressed her fingers against the wood paneling, searching for the invisible seam.
Her hands were shaking too badly.
Come on. Come on.
“They’re at the door,” Adrian said. His voice was terrifyingly even. He unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket, wrapping his hand around a heavy silver object he pulled from his inner pocket. Not a gun. A solid silver cigar tube. An improvised weapon.
Thump.
The pantry door shuddered.
Nora’s fingernail caught the edge of the panel. She yanked it hard.
The wood popped open, revealing the dark, square mouth of the linen chute.
“Here!” she gasped.
Adrian looked at the chute, then back at the rattling door. “I go first. I’ll catch you.”
He didn’t wait for her to argue. He slid into the dark hole, grabbing the metal edges, and dropped.
A heavy crash echoed behind Nora.
The deadbolt snapped. The pantry door flew open.
A flashlight beam hit Nora straight in the eyes, blinding her.
“Got the waitress,” a rough voice said.
Nora didn’t think. She threw herself into the chute.
She slid fast, the smooth metal burning against her uniform. The darkness consumed her, and for two terrifying seconds, she was falling into nothingness.
Then, strong hands caught her waist, stopping her descent with a jolt.
Adrian pulled her out into the dimly lit laundry room on the fortieth floor. The air smelled of bleach and warm cotton.
Nora collapsed against a commercial washing machine, gasping for air. Her knees were shaking so hard she couldn't stand.
Adrian stood over her, his breathing heavy but controlled. His tuxedo shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a dark bruise blooming across his skin.
“You saved my life,” he said quietly.
Nora looked up at him. The billionaire. The man on the magazines. Down here, in the harsh fluorescent light of the laundry room, he just looked like a man fighting to survive.
“Why did they lock the doors?” Nora whispered, her voice cracking. “If she wanted to kill you, why not just do it?”
Adrian looked away, his jaw tightening. “Because Vivienne doesn't want me dead. Not yet. She needs something I have.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, heavy object.
It was a tarnished silver pocket watch. It looked incredibly old, the surface scratched and worn. It didn't belong with a man who wore custom suits and flew in private jets.
“What is that?” Nora asked.
Before Adrian could answer, the radio clipped to Nora’s apron crackled to life.
It was Thomas, the floor manager. But his voice sounded wrong. Tight. Panicked.
“Nora? Nora, are you there?”
Nora reached for the radio, pressing the button. “Thomas? I’m here. We’re on the fortieth floor, you need to call the police—”
“Listen to me very carefully, Nora,” a new voice interrupted through the static.
It was Vivienne.
Her voice was as smooth and cold as polished glass.
“I told you to stay invisible. But since you want to be part of this, let’s play.”
Nora’s blood turned to ice.
“I’m looking at your employee file right now,” Vivienne purred through the radio. “Nora Hayes. Lives in Queens. And oh... what’s this? Emergency contact: Leo Hayes. Younger brother.”
May you like
Nora stopped breathing.
“My men are already on their way to his dormitory, Nora. You have exactly ten minutes to bring Adrian back up here. Or I promise you, Leo won't make it to graduation.”
