Chapter 3 - The Inner Circle
By three o'clock in the morning, the Sterling Estate had been locked down tighter than a federal penitentiary. High-tech forensic investigators hired privately by Julian were combing through the attic spaces above the ballroom, while local detectives interviewed the fifty caterers, decorators, and staff members who had access to the property over the last forty-eight hours.
In the master bedroom, Emily sat propped up against a mountain of down pillows, a thick wool blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The glass cut on her arm had been cleaned and stitched by a private physician, and an ultrasound machine rolled into the room had confirmed that her baby boy’s heartbeat was strong and steady.
Julian sat on the edge of the bed, holding her uninjured hand, pressing his forehead against her knuckles.
"I should have been closer to you," Julian whispered, his voice cracking with a vulnerability he never allowed the public to see. "I was across the room talking to the mayor. If anything had happened to you, Emily..."
"Julian, look at me," Emily said softly, using her fingers to gently lift his chin. "We are safe. But whoever did this knows our schedule. They knew exactly where the head table would be placed. They knew I would be standing under that chandelier to give the opening remarks."
The door to the bedroom opened quietly, and Lena stepped inside, holding a digital tablet. Her expression was grim.
"The forensic team found the tool," Lena reported, closing the door securely behind her. "An industrial hydraulic cutter, wiped clean of prints, tossed into one of the insulation layers directly above the winch motor. But that’s not the most alarming part. The security logs for the attic access door show that an administrative override code was used at 4:15 PM today, while the catering team was setting up the tables."
Julian stood up, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Only five people have access to the master administrative codes. Me, you, the estate manager, my mother..." He paused, his voice faltering as he hit the fifth name. "...and Victoria."
Victoria Vance. Julian’s elegant, deeply bitter step-sister. She had fought bitterly against Julian’s father’s will three years ago, claiming that Julian had manipulated the distribution of the family’s real estate holdings. When Emily married Julian a year later, Victoria had openly boycotted the wedding, telling society columnists that Emily was nothing but a social climber looking to secure the Sterling fortune through a pregnancy.
"Where is Victoria right now?" Emily asked, a cold knot of dread tightening in her stomach.
"She was at the gala," Lena said, scrolling through the camera footage on her tablet. "Look at this time stamp from the ballroom security cameras. This was two minutes before the crash. Everyone is looking at the stage where you were about to speak. But look at Victoria, sitting at table four."
Julian and Emily leaned closer to the screen. The video showed Victoria dressed in a dark velvet gown, her face pale, her eyes fixed not on Emily, but on the ceiling. She was clutching her evening purse so tightly her knuckles were white. The exact moment the chandelier began its descent, before anyone else screamed, Victoria was already turning her back and walking toward the emergency exit.
"She knew," Julian breathed, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, quiet fury. "She didn't try to warn anyone. She just walked away."
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"I’ve already dispatched two of my security units to her penthouse downtown," Lena said, turning toward the door. "But she didn't go home. Her car cleared the gate ten minutes after the incident, heading toward the private airfield in Bedford. She’s trying to leave the country."
Julian reached into his jacket, pulling out his phone. "Call the pilot. Tell him if he spins those rotors, I’ll buy his aviation company and fire him before he hits altitude. We’re going to the airfield."
