Kaelen's fingers were slick with nervous sweat as she lifted the receiver of the ancient kitchen phone. The dial tone was a loud, beautiful declaration of rebellion. She quickly punched in the number, every sound echoing deafeningly in the silent citadel.
The line clicked twice before a gravelly voice answered. "Who is this? I don't give out this number."
"Leo Vance? This is Kaelen Thorne. My father, Elias Thorne. I need a miracle, and I need it in two minutes."
Leo, a disgraced corporate attorney who had once handled Kaelen's art foundation paperwork, was instantly intrigued. Elias Thorne's disappearance had been a quiet scandal.
"Kaelen? You're supposed to be celebrating your engagement to Moretti," Leo scoffed. "If you think I'm touching anything associated with that monster..."
"I don't need you to touch it, I need you to see it," Kaelen hissed into the receiver, pressing the phone painfully against her ear. "The contract. Archaic family law, asset transfer clause, and three signatories. I need the weakness, Leo. Now."
Kaelen heard the sound of rustling papers on Leo's end. His skepticism morphed into professional urgency.
"The Moretti blood pacts are complex, but flawed," Leo whispered back. "Three signatories. They use a standard: one creditor (Silas), one impartial witness, and one blood relative of the debtor, your father. But under the family's own statutes, that relative must be legally unbound to the Moretti family at the time of signing. If the relative signing was already in their debt, or under contract, the entire agreement dissolves."
A wave of cold hope washed over Kaelen. "Who was the relative?"
"I don't know the name, Kaelen. The files are sealed. But that third signature is your weak spot, your Achilles' heel. Find the name, and find the proof that person was compromised before they signed." Leo paused, his voice dropping lower. "This is high treason, Kaelen. I need five hundred thousand dollars wired to a blind account by the end of the week just to start digging. This will cost you."
"Done," Kaelen promised instantly, desperate to secure the deal. "I will have it..."
Click.
The sound was sharp and near. It came from the direction of the service stairs leading down to the security level. It was the distinct sound of a door being gently closed, or perhaps a footstep on the marble.
Kaelen froze, the blood draining from her face. Silas. It could only be Silas, or one of his phantom guards.
"I have to go," Kaelen gasped into the phone.
"Kaelen, the money...."
Kaelen slammed the receiver down, the echo a thunderclap in the silence. She snatched the scrap of paper she'd been writing on, Third Signatory Unbound?, and shoved it into the pocket of her silk pajama bottoms. She scrubbed the fingerprints from the phone and the counter, heart hammering against her ribs like a drum of war.
She scurried out of the kitchen, back toward the main wing. She reached her suite, slid inside, and jammed the lock. Her body shaking, she collapsed into the king-sized bed, pulling the duvet over her head, forcing her breath into a slow, rhythmic pattern, praying that the fear wouldn't show on her face. Had she been heard? Did the house system log the use of the ancient line? She didn't know the limits of his control.
The next morning, Kaelen was summoned. She walked into the study to find Silas standing by the panoramic window, his back to her, already dressed in his perfect suit. The air was charged with a tension far greater than the day before.
"Sit," he commanded, not turning around.
Kaelen obeyed, sitting ramrod straight. She watched the unmoving set of his shoulders, anticipating the accusation of the phone call.
Silas turned, holding a single glass of amber liquid. "The Contis called this morning. They are… impressed with you. They sent a gift, a set of antique Sicilian daggers. They are excited for the official announcement." He took a slow sip.
He finally looked at her, his eyes cold and penetrating. "You were a little too quiet on the ride home last night. Did Alessia upset you, Kaelen? Were you brooding about the gallery?"
It was a test. A misdirection. He was watching for her reaction to an irrelevant topic.
Kaelen forced a delicate, disdainful frown. "No, Silas. I was bored. The Contis are tiresome, and Alessia is simply tedious. I was thinking about the wedding itself." She leaned forward, widening her eyes slightly in a performance of sudden, shallow enthusiasm. "If I am to be your wife, I want a centerpiece. I saw a sixteenth-century fountain at the Boccioni auction catalogue last week. I want that for the garden. It is imperative we look opulent."
She had successfully diverted his suspicion. She wasn't sullen; she was shallow and demanding, exactly the type of demanding asset he expected.
Silas studied her for a long, unsettling moment. A flicker of something, not warmth, but perhaps grudging respect for her sharp performance, crossed his face.
"A fountain," he repeated, finally relaxing his posture. "Very well. I will have it purchased. Focus on the seating chart and the dress, Kaelen. Leave the assets to me."
Kaelen met Mrs. Rossi by the linen closet during the mid-morning changeover.
"It was done," Kaelen whispered, her voice low. "I got the information I needed. But I almost..."
"I heard the click," Mrs. Rossi admitted, her face pale. "I was checking the main line in the hall. It was one of the security men. He thought he heard something. He was patrolling the service level. You must never, ever risk that again."
"I won't," Kaelen vowed. "But I need money. A large sum, quickly. I can't wire it without his surveillance catching me. Do you have a contact? Someone who can move cash downtown to an attorney?"
Mrs. Rossi looked terrified, but resolute. "There is a network. Old family favors. It will cost more, but it can be done. I will put out the word for a meet."
Kaelen nodded, her eyes hardening as she looked down at the glittering engagement ring. She was trapped, but she had a weapon now: the name of a compromised family member.
"Get the money moving," Kaelen instructed, no longer sounding like a hostage, but a co-conspirator. "I have to find out who the third signatory is. And once I do, I will be one step closer to setting fire to this entire gilded cage."