The richest people in the city witnessed it...

Victoria’s heart plummeted. There was no time to make it to the door, and the room offered very few hiding places. She looked around frantically, her gaze landing on a large, floor-to-ceiling bookshelf near the corner of the room. A slight gap behind the heavy wood suggested it wasn't flushed against the wall.

With no other choice, she squeezed herself into the narrow space between the back of the bookshelf and the cold stone wall, pulling her silver gown tight around her to prevent any fabric from showing. She held her breath, her chest constricting with agonizing tension.

The study door flew open. The heavy footsteps entered, accompanied by the distinct rustle of a silk suit. It was Julian Sterling, accompanied by Arthur Vance.

"I need the financial ledgers from the safe, Arthur," Julian said, his voice tense. "The federal investigators are pushing harder than expected, and I want to make sure all offshore transfers from this quarter are completely wiped from our local records before the night is over."

"Of course, Julian," Vance replied. "But what about the Harrington woman? She’s been in the restroom for quite some time. The guards are beginning to get suspicious."

"Send someone to check on her," Julian ordered coldly. "If she’s trying anything foolish, have her detained immediately. We can accelerate our timeline. We don't need her compliance to access the files; we can find other ways to make her speak."

Victoria could hear Julian moving around the desk, just feet away from her hiding spot. She could hear the beep of a digital keypad as he opened a hidden safe behind a painting. Her muscles ached from the cramped position, and the dust behind the bookshelf was tickling her nose. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting with every ounce of her willpower to suppress a cough.

"Everything is in order," Julian said after a moment, the sound of the safe snapping shut echoing through the room. "Let’s go downstairs. It’s time for my speech. Let's give our guests the show they paid for."

The footsteps moved toward the door, and the heavy mahogany door clicked shut. The room fell silent once more.

Victoria waited for twenty agonizing seconds before crawling out from behind the bookshelf. She was covered in light dust, and her silver gown was wrinkled, but she didn't care. She checked the hallway through a crack in the door. It was clear.

She sprinted out of the study, heading toward the back stairwell that led to the mansion’s kitchens and the wine cellar below. She knew the guards would soon discover the restroom was empty, and once they did, the entire estate would go into lockdown.

She reached the service stairs and descended rapidly, her bare feet silent on the concrete steps. The air grew progressively colder, losing the warmth of the upper floors and taking on the damp, chilling atmosphere of an underground vault. She reached the basement level, navigating through a labyrinth of brick archways until she found the entrance to the wine cellar.

The wine cellar was massive, lined with thousands of expensive bottles resting in dark wooden racks. Victoria moved deeper into the cellar, her eyes searching for the entrance to the subterranean level the mercenary had mentioned. Near the back of the cellar, behind a massive oak barrel that looked like a permanent fixture, she found a heavy steel door set into the brick wall.

Beside the door was a digital keypad with a glowing red indicator. This was it.

She approached the keypad, her fingers trembling slightly as she positioned them over the buttons. She recalled the code she had stolen from the computer server: 9-9-4-2-6-6-3-4-2 (OMEGA on a standard alphanumeric keypad).

She pressed the numbers firmly. With each press, the keypad let out a sharp beep that sounded terrifyingly loud in the dead silence of the cellar. She finished the sequence and pressed the enter key.

For a second, nothing happened. Victoria’s heart stopped. Had Julian changed the code? Had she misread the file?

Then, a loud, mechanical clonk echoed through the space. The indicator light shifted from red to green, and the heavy steel door hissed open, revealing a steep flight of concrete stairs leading down into complete darkness.

Victoria didn't hesitate. She stepped through the door and began her descent into the underworld of the Whispering Pines Estate. The air down here was freezing, and the smell of damp earth and concrete was overwhelming. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw a long, narrow corridor with a single light fixture dangling from the ceiling, casting long, eerie shadows.

At the end of the corridor stood a single mercenary, the same scarred-jaw man she had seen earlier with Julian. He was leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette, his rifle slung casually over his shoulder.

He hadn't heard her approach, but as Victoria’s silver gown caught the dim light, he turned his head, his eyes widening in shock as he realized an intruder was in the restricted area.

"What the—" he began, reaching for his weapon.

But Victoria didn't give him the chance. The adrenaline coursing through her veins wiped away all fear, replacing it with a primal, maternal fury. She lunged forward, covering the distance between them with terrifying speed. Before the mercenary could unholster his rifle, Victoria grabbed the heavy silver flute of champagne she had secretly carried from the ballroom, smashed it against the brick wall, and drove the jagged glass stem directly into the mercenary's shoulder.

The man screamed in pain, dropping his rifle as he stumbled backward. Victoria followed up immediately, using her weight to drive her knee into his midsection, then delivering a sharp, precise strike to his throat with the heel of her open hand—a self-defense technique she had practiced for years but never thought she would have to use.

The mercenary gasped for air, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed to the concrete floor, unconscious.

Victoria stood over him, gasping for breath, her hands shaking as she dropped the broken glass. She looked at the heavy steel door behind him. It had a small glass window reinforced with wire mesh. She pressed her face against the glass.