Chapter 2 - Into the Underbelly
The service elevator plunged six floors down into the damp, industrial basement of the Marlowe Hotel.
Victoria stood leaning against the stainless-steel wall, breathing heavily, her black evening gown torn at the hem. Beside her, the little girl leaned against the handrail, clutching her wooden flute like a weapon.
"What is your name?" Victoria asked softly, kneeling in front of her.
"Lily," the girl whispered. "Lily Vale."
Victoria froze. "Vale?"
"Mom said... she said I had to use his last name when the doctors asked, so he would keep paying for her medicine," Lily said, a stray tear wiping a clean line through the dirt on her cheek. "But she told me never to call him father."
The elevator doors slid open with a heavy mechanical groan, revealing the dark, humid subterranean corridors connecting the hotel to the underground city subway network. Victoria grabbed Lily’s hand, pulling her into the shadowy labyrinth just as the alarm bells above began to wail.
"He controls the city police, Lily," Victoria said as they navigated past stacked crates of liquor and humming generator units. "And he controls every private security firm in the state. We can't go to a public hospital."
"Mom isn't in a hospital," Lily admitted, stopping beneath a flickering halogen bulb. "She’s in an old warehouse by the docks. A nurse named Martha sneaks her medicine when Mr. Vale’s men aren't looking. But Martha said... she said if I didn't come back with food tonight, Mom wouldn't last until morning."
Victoria’s chest tightened with unbearable pain. While she had been living in a twenty-million-dollar penthouse, sleeping on silk sheets, her sister had been slowly starved in a concrete tomb blocks away.
They reached an exit grate leading out into a narrow alleyway behind the hotel. Rain was beginning to fall, slicking the asphalt. Victoria peeked through the iron bars and saw two black SUVs cruising slowly down the main street, their spotlights sweeping the sidewalk.
She pulled a small silver phone from her hidden dress pocket. It was a burner phone—one her old friend and legal advisor, Julian Reed, had given her months ago when she had first started noticing discrepancies in her trust accounts.
She dialed the number from memory.
"Victoria?" Julian’s voice came through the speaker, tight with anxiety. "Where are you? The news channels are exploding. Someone uploaded a video of the terrace scene to the internet. Adrian’s PR team is trying to scrub it, but it’s spreading like wildfire."
"Julian," Victoria gasped, pulling Lily closer beneath the dripping awning. "Anna is alive. He has her near the docks. I need a car, I need a team, and I need you to meet me at the old conservatory."
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"Victoria, listen to me," Julian warned, his tone grave. "Adrian just issued an emergency corporate warrant. He’s claiming you’re having a psychotic break and that you kidnapped a child. If the police catch you, they won't take you to a station. They’ll take you to one of his private clinics."
"Then we better not get caught," Victoria said, her voice turning to pure steel. "Bring the key extraction kit. We’re opening my father’s vault tonight."
