712 "They thought Eleanor was a helpless wheelchair-bound ex-wife—until Victoria humiliated her in front of 300 millionaires, and Eleanor tapped three quiet signals that triggered a devastating revenge…

Panic consumed Graham. Driven by desperation, he grabbed the heavy glass bottle from the counter, smashed it against the edge of the table, and lunged at Savannah. Savannah screamed, diving out of the way as Graham bolted toward the fire escape.

He scrambled down the rusty iron stairs into the dark alley behind the apartment building. He knew the alleyways of this district better than the police; he had spent his youth running through similar streets before he met Eleanor and adopted a life of luxury.

Dodging the officers covering the main street, Graham slipped through a loose fence panel and disappeared into the night.

Twenty minutes later, Eleanor received a direct call from the lead investigator.

"Mrs. Whitaker, we have secured Savannah Ardell, but Graham managed to evade the perimeter team through an underground service tunnel. He is on the run, armed and extremely unstable."

Eleanor’s hand tightened on her silver cane. "He has nowhere to go. He has no money, no friends, and no escape route."

"A desperate man with nothing to lose is dangerous," Marcus warned, standing beside her in her office. "We need to move you to a safe house immediately."

"No," Eleanor said firmly. "If I go into hiding now, he wins the mental game. He wants me afraid. I am not giving him that power ever again."

"Eleanor, please—"

"Increase the security at the penthouse and the office," Eleanor commanded. "And tell the police to monitor the St. Aurelia Hotel."

Marcus frowned. "The St. Aurelia? Why would he go back there?"

"Because that’s where his entire fantasy of power died," Eleanor said softly, her eyes reflecting the city lights. "Graham is a narcissist. He doesn't just want to escape; he wants to undo the moment his reality shattered."

Her instinct was terrifyingly accurate.

At 1:00 AM, Graham, wearing a stolen worker's jumpsuit, breached the rear service entrance of the St. Aurelia Hotel. The hotel was largely empty following the scandal of the previous evening, with only a skeleton maintenance crew working the night shift.

Graham made his way through the familiar back corridors, his minds spiraling into madness. He didn't care about fleeing the country anymore. In his twisted mind, Eleanor was the origin of all his suffering. If he eliminated her, the nightmare would stop.

He accessed the hotel’s internal private network using an administrative passcode he had memorized from his wedding setup. He searched the guest logs, expecting to find Eleanor’s team operating a command suite from the hotel.

Instead, he found a single calendar entry on the executive suite network, updated just ten minutes prior: Eleanor Whitaker - Private Press De-briefing, Grand Ballroom.