Chapter 3 - The Autumn Gala
The Chicago Museum of Fine Arts was bathed in gold and amber light, its grand marble staircase lined with the city's elite. Violins echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings, and women in designer gowns glided past ice sculptures carved in the shape of the Vale Medical Systems logo.
At the center of the grand ballroom stood Celeste Vale.
She wore a gown of midnight blue silk that cost more than my entire year's allowance, her platinum hair styled into an intricate, severe updo. Beside her stood Adrian, looking flushed from too much whiskey, his wrist flashing my father's vintage Patek Philippe watch every time he raised his glass to greet a board member.
I stood near the shadow of a Corinthian column, wearing a simple, tailored black dress that allowed me to blend seamlessly into the background. To the guests, I was just the quiet, grieving daughter who didn't have the stomach for corporate politics.
"Vivienne," a smooth, patronizing voice called out from behind me.
I turned to find Martin Mercer standing there, a silver tray of champagne flutes passing between us. His eyes were small, calculating behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his smile entirely devoid of warmth.
"Martin," I said, keeping my voice steady, performing the role of the broken, submissive daughter perfectly. "A beautiful event. Celeste outdid herself."
"Yes, well, leadership requires a certain... theatricality, Vivienne," Mercer said, taking a sip from his glass. "I trust your allowance is sufficient for your current living arrangements? If you need assistance finding a smaller apartment, my firm can provide some recommendations."
"I'm managing," I said, lowering my eyes to hide the sharp focus tracking the small, leather key-fob attached to his belt loop. That key-fob contained the physical proximity token for his firm's private elevator. "Though I was wondering... there are some personal tax documents of my mother’s that were stored in my father's private files. I believe they were moved to your office during the inventory process last week."
Mercer’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second. "All estate files are currently sealed for probate, Vivienne. I suggest you wait until the court finalizes the transition next month."
"Of course," I murmured. "Excuse me, Martin. I need to get some fresh air."
I walked away from him, navigating through the crowd toward the main exit. As I passed Adrian, he deliberately stepped into my path, a cruel smirk on his face.
"Hey, sis," he muttered, leaning in close enough for me to smell the liquor on his breath. "Enjoying the party? Don't drink too much of the champagne. I'm not sure your budget can handle the hangover."
"Congratulations on the appointment, Adrian," I said, keeping my voice entirely devoid of emotion. "I hope you can handle the responsibility. The board expects a lot from the CEO."
"The board works for me now," Adrian laughed, turning back to a group of young executives who joined in his laughter.
I walked out the front doors of the museum, stepping into the cold autumn night. The moment I cleared the security cameras, I pulled a small, black wireless cloning device from my evening bag—a device Detective Quinn had provided me before the event.
When I had stood next to Mercer at the champagne tray, I had bumped into his right side, holding the cloning device within two inches of his belt loop for precisely four seconds.
I looked down at the small LED screen on the cloner.
SIGNAL CAPTURED. PROXIMITY TOKEN REPLICATED.
May you like
I slipped the device into my coat pocket and walked toward a waiting black sedan parked at the corner of the block. Inside sat Detective Quinn, her fingers tapping against the steering wheel.
"We have the token," I said, sliding into the passenger seat. "Let's go get the real will."
