Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN IN THE PENTHOUSE
Gabriel’s penthouse had twelve bedrooms, six employees on permanent staff, armed security on three floors, and more cameras than a casino.
That meant nothing.
Because somebody inside had been poisoning his world.
We returned after sunrise.
Gabriel ordered everyone into the main living room.
Chef.
Housekeeper.
Security chief.
Personal assistant.
Two drivers.
Three guards.
His accountant.
And Vivian Cross.
She entered last.
Beautiful.
Perfectly composed.
Gabriel’s fiancée.
I hadn’t known she existed.
Something inside me reacted before I could stop it.
Not jealousy, exactly.
More like the sudden reminder that Gabriel Hayes belonged to a world of tailored suits and diamond-covered women, while I smelled like diner coffee and cheap detergent.
Vivian looked at me.
“Who is she?”
Gabriel answered.
“The reason I ate last night.”
Her smile tightened.
“How touching.”
Gabriel placed the photographs on the table.
“My mother is alive.”
Vivian’s expression barely changed.
“That’s impossible.”
“How do you know?”
She paused.
“Because you told me she died.”
Gabriel watched her.
Leo began collecting phones.
I noticed Vivian subtly move one hand toward her handbag.
“Don’t.”
Everyone looked at me.
Vivian’s eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me?”
“Your bag.”
Gabriel immediately took it.
Inside were cosmetics, keys, a wallet, and a small amber bottle.
Leo examined it.
“No label.”
Vivian’s face went white.
“It’s sleeping medication.”
“Yours?” Gabriel asked.
“Yes.”
Leo smelled it.
“Could be.”
I held out my hand.
“I can take it to the hospital lab.”
Vivian laughed.
“You’re a waitress.”
“And a nursing student.”
“You’re also standing in my home.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“No.”
Vivian turned.
“What?”
“It’s my home.”
The temperature seemed to drop.
“Until I know who is trying to kill me, nobody owns a room here except me.”
The laboratory confirmed the bottle contained an ordinary sedative.
Vivian was furious.
Gabriel remained suspicious.
Then security found something worse.
A concealed transmitter beneath Gabriel’s dining table.
Someone had been recording conversations in the penthouse.
The serial number traced back to Hayes Security.
Only three people could authorize that equipment.
Gabriel.
Leo.
And security chief Marcus Dane.
Marcus disappeared before questioning.
His apartment had been emptied.
His passport was gone.
Then Gabriel’s private server revealed Marcus had accessed kitchen schedules the day Paulie died.
Gabriel finally had a target.
Until I checked the log.
“Gabriel.”
He looked over.
“What?”
“Marcus’s access card was used at 9:14 p.m.”
“Yes.”
“His security footage shows him downstairs at 9:14.”
Gabriel frowned.
I pointed to another detail.
“The card was cloned.”
Leo leaned closer.
“By who?”
I enlarged the access history.
A second administrator had generated a temporary duplication code.
The account belonged to someone named V. Cross.
Everyone looked at Vivian.
She stared at the screen.
“That isn’t me.”
Gabriel’s face became unreadable.
“Then explain why your name unlocked the system.”
May you like
Vivian whispered:
“Because Cross isn’t my real last name.”
