Chapter 4 - The Voice from Above
The tinny, amplified voice of Victoria Sterling echoed through the air vents, bouncing off the marble floors and glass chandeliers downstairs. "All guests are advised that unauthorized personnel have breached the lower security perimeters. Please remain in the ballroom for your own safety."
Downstairs, the guests exchanged nervous glances. The illusion of a prestigious charity event had completely disintegrated, replaced by the suffocating atmosphere of a corporate siege.
Up in the server room, Julian dropped the manila folder. Papers scattered across the raised floor tiles, revealing dozens of forged land deeds bearing the forged signature of Sylvia’s late father, Arthur Sterling. Julian dropped to his knees, frantically gathering the documents as if hiding them could erase the reality of what Victoria had done.
"She forged the entire estate transfer," Julian whispered, his hands shaking. "She planned this from the day your father died in that boating accident."
Sylvia crouched beside him, her movements precise despite the throbbing ache in her ribs. She picked up a single sheet of paper—the autopsy report from her father’s death, stamped Classified and marked with a red ink seal that had only recently been broken. "It wasn't an accident, Julian. And you knew it."
Julian stopped gathering papers, his hands freezing over a corner of the forged deed. He didn't look up. "I was just executing the paperwork I was given. Victoria holds the controlling shares of my firm. If I didn't comply, my family..."
"Your family is safe if you help me finish what my father started," Sylvia interrupted, her tone leaving no room for argument. She grabbed the edge of the server console and ripped away the heavy plastic faceplate, exposing the analog hardwire bypass her father had installed decades ago as a failsafe against corporate espionage. "Give me your tie."
Julian blinked, disoriented. "My tie?"
"Unless you want to use your belt," Sylvia said sharply. "We need to bridge the analog relay before the security protocol locks us out permanently."
Without another word, Julian loosened his silk tie, pulled it from his collar, and handed it over. Sylvia took the fabric, wrapped the exposed copper wires of the bypass with the silk to insulate her bleeding hands, and jammed the spliced cable into the manual override port.
A sharp spark lit up the dim server room, casting long shadows across the racks of humming hard drives. The entire building shuddered as the main power grid switched over to emergency backup. Across every television screen, tablet, and smartphone connected to the hotel’s internal Wi-Fi network, the live feed from the basement archives abruptly overrode whatever broadcast was playing.
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On thousands of screens across the ballroom and beyond, a grainy security camera video began to play on a continuous loop, showing Victoria Sterling standing over Arthur Sterling’s hospital bed, holding a syringe with a steady, practiced hand.
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