Chapter 7 - The Room That Time Forgot
The beam of Rene’s phone flashlight cut through the heavy darkness of room 404, revealing a space that looked less like a hotel suite and more like a clandestine corporate command center. Massive oak drafting tables dominated the center of the room, covered in sprawling architectural blueprints, handwritten financial ledgers, and stacks of yellowed correspondence tied with frayed red ribbons. The air was thick with the scent of old paper, decomposing leather, and dry rot.
Rene stepped cautiously across the threshold, her black dress whispering against the dusty floorboards. Every surface was coated in a thick, undisturbed layer of grey ash and dust, save for one spot: a modern mahogany desk near the bay window overlooking Copley Square, upon which sat a sleek, current-model laptop plugged into an open wall outlet, its screen glowing with a soft, pulsing blue light.
“Someone has been in here recently,” Rene whispered, her voice tight with sudden alarm. She turned back to Eleanor, whose wheelchair sat just outside the doorway.
Eleanor’s face, usually masked in serene detachment, tightened into a mask of bitter comprehension. “Julianne,” the old woman said, her voice dropping to a harsh rasp. “She didn’t just keep the key as a souvenir. This was her private sanctuary. While the board thought this wing was sealed away, Julianne was using it to manage the offshore accounts that drained the Copley estate dry.”
Rene approached the modern laptop, her gloved hand—she had slipped on a pair of white catering gloves from her apron—hesitating just above the trackpad. A sticky note was affixed to the monitor, written in sharp, aggressive cursive: Transfer complete. Final liquidation scheduled for midnight.
Midnight. Rene glanced down at her wristwatch. It was 11:45 PM. Fifteen minutes left.
“Eleanor,” Rene called out urgently, stepping back toward the doorway. “We need to pull the hard drive right now. If that transfer completes—”
Before Rene could finish her sentence, a heavy mechanical thud echoed from down the hallway. The elevator bell pinged once, signaling that someone had just arrived on the fourth floor.
Eleanor’s eyes widened in sudden terror. She gripped the wheels of her chair, rolling backward a few inches into the shadows of the corridor. “Hide, child!” she hissed. “Someone’s coming!”
Rene spun around, frantically searching for a place to conceal herself as heavy, purposeful footsteps began marching down the floral-carpeted hallway, heading straight for room 404. The footsteps stopped dead right outside the open door.
May you like
A familiar, breathless voice cut through the stagnant air of the suite, dripping with venom. “Well, well, well. Look what the rats dragged into the attic.”
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