Chapter 2
The elevator ride to the ninth floor was entirely silent. Elias stood by the brass control panel, his eyes fixed on the illuminated numbers ticking upward. Clara shifted Lily higher onto her shoulder. The little girl let out a soft murmur, her cheek pressing against the rough fabric of Clara’s epaulet.
"She’s deeply asleep," Elias noted, his voice a low, gravelly hum. "The flight took it out of her."
"It’s more than the flight," Clara replied, her gaze fixed on the reflection in the polished brass doors. "It’s the constant moving. She’s exhausted, Elias. We both are."
"The hotel manager was terrified when he met us at the elevator banks," Elias said, a faint ghost of a smile touching his lips. "You didn't have to threaten him with the gala agreement. The uniform would have sufficed."
"Patrick at the front desk was instructed to turn me away," Clara said, her tone analytical and cold. "A front desk clerk at a five-star hotel does not tell a decorated officer with a sleeping child to walk four miles in the rain to a shelter unless someone very wealthy and very powerful paid him to create a friction point."
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to reveal a private foyer lined with dark oak paneling and plush, sound-dampening carpet. Suite 904 was the penthouse equivalent of a fortress. Elias stepped out first, his eyes sweeping the hallway, scanning for any inconsistencies in the shadows or the fixtures. Satisfied, he nodded.
Clara walked into the suite. It was sprawling, all floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, white grand pianos, and heavy silk drapery. She bypassed the luxury entirely, walking straight into the primary bedroom to lay Lily down on the massive king-sized bed. She arranged the pillows around the child, making a soft barricade, and gently pried the beige stuffed rabbit from Lily’s grip, placing it next to her pillow.
Elias walked into the room, holding a small, sweeping device that emitted a faint, rhythmic clicking sound. "The room is clean," he reported. "No bugs. No cameras. The encrypted network is online. The gala begins in three hours downstairs."
Clara walked into the master bathroom and stared at her reflection in the massive mirror. She looked exhausted. The olive uniform felt heavier than it had a decade ago.
"Have you checked the guest list for the gala?" Clara asked, turning on the cold water and splashing her face, careful not to ruin her hair.
"I have," Elias leaned against the doorframe. "Marcus Vance is confirmed. He arrived two hours ago. He’s holding court in the cigar lounge. He brought a detail of private contractors with him."
"Of course my uncle brought mercenaries," Clara muttered, drying her face with a pristine white towel. "The Ministry of Defense is signing over a three-billion-dollar autonomous drone contract tonight. Marcus needs to prove that I am unfit to run Vance Global so he can secure the board’s proxy votes. Turning me away at the front desk was just a childish preamble. He’s going to make a real move tonight."
"And the drive?" Elias asked softly, his eyes flicking toward the bedroom where Lily slept.
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"The drive is secure," Clara said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Marcus thinks the decryption keys for the drone AI are in the Pentagon’s servers. He doesn't know my husband downloaded them before he was killed. He doesn't know I have them."
"If he finds out," Elias warned, "he won't just try to humiliate you at a gala, Clara. He will burn this hotel to the ground to get them."
