Chapter 12: Trapped in the Study
Elena backed away slowly, her mind racing as she calculated her options. The guards were professional, hired muscle brought in specifically by Eleanor’s inner circle to handle corporate espionage and internal threats. They were not local police who could be reasoned with; they were operatives loyal only to the payroll that fed them.
"You are making a very serious mistake," Elena said, keeping her voice steady despite the adrenaline spiking through her veins. "The documents you are trying to intercept have already been backed up on secure federal servers downtown. Destroying this drive will not stop the investigation."
The lead guard, a scarred man with cold gray eyes, stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Mrs. Vance, we don't care about servers or federal investigations. Our instructions are very simple: ensure the evening proceeds without interruption, and keep you contained until the gala concludes."
"And Clara?" Elena demanded, taking a gamble. "Where is she? Did your employers lock her away in one of the private properties?"
The guard’s expression didn't flicker, confirming that he knew exactly who Clara was. "You talk too much for someone who is about to spend the rest of the evening locked in a soundproof cellar."
Before Elena could lunge toward the desk or scream for help, one of the guards grabbed her arms from behind, pinning them tightly against her sides. She struggled, her heels scraping against the Persian rug, but she was no match for their physical strength. They dragged her toward the hidden service door behind the bookshelf that led down to the sub-level archives.
Just as the heavy iron door of the cellar swung open, a sharp crash echoed from the hallway outside the main study.
"Let her go," a familiar, furious voice commanded.
Michael stood in the doorway of the study, his tuxedo jacket discarded, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows. He wasn't alone. Two federal agents in plainclothes flanked him, their badges gleaming under the hallway lights, accompanied by David Vance himself.
The guard holding Elena momentarily hesitated, his grip loosening just enough for her to wrench her arms free and shove him backward into the desk. Elena scrambled out of the cellar doorway, rushing to Michael’s side.
"Federal marshals! Nobody move!" David announced loudly, stepping into the room with absolute authority.
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The security guards froze, realizing the game was up. They looked toward the doorway, then at each other, slowly lowering their hands and stepping away from the desk as the federal agents moved in to secure the room and cuff the operatives.
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