Chapter 11 - The Midnight Return to the Meridian
The heavy oak doors of the Grand Meridian Hotel swung open with an ominous creak, admitting two figures into the cavernous, crystal-lit lobby. Victoria Vance walked with her head held high, though her silver one-shoulder dress was now torn at the hem and her dark shoulder-length hair fell in messy strands around her face. Her red lipstick was smeared across her cheek like a brand of shame. Beside her strode Marcus Vance, his tailored navy suit wrinkled, his tie torn off completely, his eyes burning with a desperate, manic energy.
The night receptionist at the front desk dropped his pen, staring in absolute horror as the couple marched across the polished marble floor toward the private elevator bank.
"Mr. and Mrs. Vance! You... you're supposed to be in federal custody!" the receptionist stammered, reaching frantically for the under-desk panic button.
"Shut your mouth and hand over the master penthouse keycard," Marcus snarled, slamming his palm down onto the mahogany counter with enough force to splinter the wood. "We own this building, you miserable worm. Every square inch of it."
"Not anymore, you don't," a calm, resonant voice echoed from the top of the grand marble staircase.
Victoria and Marcus stopped dead in their tracks, their heads snapping upward.
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Standing on the landing, bathed in the cold white light of the central chandelier, was Clara. She had removed her black service vest and white button-down shirt, revealing a sharp, charcoal-gray silk blouse beneath her trench coat. Her light brown braids were unspooled, falling in soft waves aroun
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