Chapter 4 - The Midnight Visitor
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I placed the phone silently on the coffee table and crept toward the front door. The knocking came again, three sharp, measured raps that rattled the cheap wooden frame.
I pressed my eye to the peephole.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway was a man I did not recognize. He was exceptionally tall, wearing a tailored black cashmere overcoat that cost more than my entire apartment building. His face was sharp, scarred near the jawline, and his dark eyes swept the hallway with the calculated paranoia of a professional predator.
He didn't look like a police officer. He looked like an executioner.
"Ms. Vance," the man’s deep, gravelly voice resonated through the door. "I know you are standing there. My name is Marcus. I am the head of security for Arthur Sterling. Please open the door before the neighborhood notices my presence."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Arthur's head of security.
I hesitated, glancing back at the bedroom where Lily was sleeping. If I opened the door, I was letting the billionaire's world into my fragile sanctuary. If I didn't, I had no doubt this man could kick the door off its hinges.
I unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door exactly two inches, keeping the security chain attached.
"What do you want?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Marcus didn't push against the door. He simply held up a sealed folder. "Mr. Sterling received an alert from his legal team an hour ago. The quarterly trust statement that was mailed to your mother's address was unexpectedly opened, and a GPS tracker embedded in the seal was activated at this location."
My eyes widened. The heavy wax seal on the envelope. Arthur had bugged his own mail.
"He's tracking me?" I gasped.
"He has been tracking his daughter's financial documents for eight months, trying to understand why you refused to cash the checks directly," Marcus corrected smoothly. "When the tracker pinged outside of Evelyn Vance's home for the first time, Mr. Sterling dispatched me immediately. May I come in, Sarah?"
I looked into the man's eyes. They were cold, but not cruel. He was a soldier following orders.
I slid the chain off and opened the door. Marcus stepped into the cramped, freezing living room. He took one look at the peeling wallpaper, the space heater, and the cheap thrift-store furniture, and a muscle feathered in his scarred jaw.
"Mr. Sterling was led to believe you were living in a luxury condo in the Gold Coast," Marcus stated quietly, his eyes taking in the absolute poverty surrounding us. "Your mother provided signed leases and photographic evidence."
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"My mother is a monster," I whispered.
"Yes," Marcus agreed, pulling a heavy, black satellite phone from his coat pocket. "And my boss is currently waiting on the line to discuss exactly how we are going to dismantle her."
