Chapter 4
Escorted away from the prying eyes of the gala attendees, Arthur, Elena, and the young girl found themselves standing in the cavernous, marble-columned foyer just outside the main ballroom doors. The heavy mahogany doors muffled the distant, nervous murmur of the remaining guests, leaving the trio in a tense, echoing quiet. The two security guards stood a respectful distance away, their hands clasped behind their backs, acting as silent sentinels. Arthur adjusted his black bowtie with a trembling finger, trying desperately to regain his composure under Elena’s unblinking, analytical gaze. The smartphone was still pointed directly at his face, its recording light blinking a steady, accusatory red.
"Put the phone away, Elena," Arthur commanded, his voice strained as he attempted to project an aura of executive authority that he no longer felt. "We can discuss this professionally in a private office, not broadcasted to your sensationalist blog followers." Elena slowly lowered the device, though the screen remained active, capturing the cool marble reflections of the grand lobby. Her expression was completely devoid of sympathy. "Professional, Arthur? You nearly had a child manhandled in public over a piece of military tech that shouldn't even be in this ballroom," she retorted sharply. She then turned her attention down to the girl in the oversized gray hoodie, who was quietly examining a brass wall sconce with detached fascination.
Elena crouched down slightly to meet the girl's eye level, softening her tone just enough to pierce the child's apparent shell of indifference. "What's your name, sweetheart? And how do you know what a 3117 hinge is?" The girl stopped inspecting the brass fixture and slowly turned her head. Her face was remarkably composed, displaying none of the usual anxiety or erratic behavior expected from a child dragged through a high-society event. She looked directly into Elena’s eyes and spoke in a clear, surprisingly steady voice: "My name is Maya. And my dad built the 3117 before they took his workshop away."
May you like
The name hit Arthur like a physical blow, draining the remaining color from his face. He staggered backward half a step, his shoulder brushing against a cold marble pillar. "Maya..." he whispered, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. Elena caught the immediate shift in Arthur’s demeanor, her investigative instincts flaring into high gear. She snapped her gaze back to the executive, reading the sudden guilt etched into every line of his forehead. "You know her? Or rather, you know her father?" Elena pressed, stepping closer to Arthur, sensing that the glamorous charity gala was merely the glittering surface of a much darker corporate tragedy.
Maya stood quietly between them, her bare feet pressing flat against the cold stone floor, completely unbothered by the heavy political and financial storm swirling around her. She reached into the deep front pocket of her gray hoodie and pulled out a small, worn leather notebook held together by rubber bands. Without a word, she extended it toward Arthur. The cover was scuffed and bore burn marks along the edges, instantly recognizable to the executive as the personal journal of Dr. Thomas Vance—the brilliant, disgraced chief engineer of Sterling Robotics who had vanished under mysterious circumstances exactly one year ago.
