Chapter 7: The Hallway Breach
Maya didn't wait for the situation inside the suite to deteriorate further. With the decrypted video file safely loaded onto her tablet, she tapped the emergency broadcast override icon on her screen, linking her device directly to the hotel’s master public address system and every digital display in the Grand Ballroom downstairs, where three hundred wedding guests were currently murmuring anxiously over empty champagne flutes.
She stepped away from the wall, her dark brown blazer smoothing out as she strode purposefully toward the slightly ajar door of Suite 402. With a firm, deliberate push, she swung the heavy mahogany door wide open, letting the cool corridor air rush into the stifling, emotionally charged room.
All four heads snapped toward the doorway. Julian blinked against the sudden shift in lighting, while Marcus Vance instinctively raised his hand to shield his phone’s camera lens from the unexpected intrusion. Eleanor let out a sharp, indignant squawk, clutching the front of her brown satin dress as if she had just been assaulted a second time.
"Hotel security," Maya announced, her voice ringing clear, steady, and entirely devoid of hesitation. She held her diagnostic tablet up at chest height, the screen glowing brightly to reveal the crystal-clear, high-definition loop of Eleanor intentionally snapping her own pearl necklace and faking her fall. "The show is over, Mr. Sterling. And so is your livestream."
Marcus Vance lunged forward, moving with surprising agility for a man in a tailored dark suit. He reached for Maya’s tablet, his fingers clawing toward the edge of the screen to smash the device against the hardwood floor.
"You have no jurisdiction here, security guard," Marcus snarled, his face twisting into an ugly grimace of corporate panic.
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Maya didn't flinch. She executed a clean, defensive pivot, stepping inside Marcus's reach and sweeping her foot behind his ankle with the practiced ease of someone who had spent five years in municipal close-quarters training before joining the private sector. Marcus lost his footing instantly, his expensive leather shoes sliding out from under him as he crashed hard onto the Persian rug, his smartphone flying from his grip and shattering against the gold-framed mirror.
Julian stared in horror, paralyzed between his fallen publicist and his mother, who was now glaring at Maya with venomous hatred.
