Chapter 9: The Close Call
Viktor Vance stepped out of the private elevator, loosening his maroon suit jacket as he tossed his leather briefcase onto the entryway console. He looked exhausted, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance, muttering profanities under his breath about incompetent board members and failing municipal contracts. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his floral print shirt, exposing the heavy gold chain resting against his thick chest.
Clara pressed her back flat against the cold marble pillar, holding her breath so completely that her lungs burned. The leather folder hidden beneath the heavy ruffles of her white dress pressed sharply against her ribs, but she didn’t dare move an inch. She could hear the heavy thud of Viktor’s shoes on the hardwood floor as he walked past the living room and toward the kitchen.
“Is anyone here?” Viktor called out, his voice echoing loudly through the open-concept penthouse.
Silence answered him, save for the hum of the high-end refrigerator in the distance.
Clara closed her eyes for a brief second, praying to any power that would listen. Viktor poured himself a glass of water from the kitchen counter, taking a slow, deliberate sip. He was dangerously close—less than twenty feet away from where she stood hiding behind the marble pillar. If he decided to check the study, or even walk down the eastern corridor, he would see her instantly.
Suddenly, Viktor’s cell phone rang, cutting through the quiet tension of the suite. He cursed loudly, pulling the device from his pocket and tapping the screen.
“What do you mean the municipal zoning permit was denied?” Viktor snapped into the phone, his voice rising in aggressive frustration. “I paid the city councilman specifically to fast-track that property acquisition. Fix it, or I’ll ruin your career by sundown.”
He turned on his heel, pacing away from the kitchen and back toward the private elevator, his attention entirely consumed by the volatile phone call. The sound of his heavy footsteps receding down the private landing was the sweetest music Clara had ever heard.
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Without waiting another second, Clara slipped out from behind the marble pillar and bolted toward the service exit at the opposite end of the penthouse. Her bare feet slapped quietly against the floorboards as she reached the heavy metal fire exit door. She pushed the crash bar, slipping into the stairwell just as the heavy door clicked shut behind her.
She descended the concrete steps five at a time, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs, ignoring the sharp ache in her muscles. By the time she reached the ground-level alleyway behind the skyscraper, she was breathless, disheveled, but entirely free.
