Chapter 7 - The Secret Surveillance Footage and the Betrayal Within the Board
By 2:00 a.m., Meridian Tower was locked down like a maximum-security prison.
Federal investigators from the FBI’s white-collar crime division had cordoned off the entire second-floor ballroom, while corporate security teams swept every hallway, stairwell, and elevator shaft.
Up on the forty-eighth-floor penthouse, Lucas sat propped up in his private medical bed, looking exhausted, pale, but fiercely awake.
I stood beside the window, wearing a pair of comfortable sweatpants and an oversized hoodie provided by Victoria, holding a fresh cup of black coffee.
The door to the master suite clicked open, and Victoria walked in, carrying a heavy encrypted laptop.
“The building lockdown is complete,” Victoria reported smoothly, her face carved from stone.
“No one leaves Meridian Tower without a full strip search and digital device scan. However…”
She paused, casting a sidelong glance at me before looking back at Lucas.
“However, Claire Vance managed to slip through the private subterranean parking garage via her personal chauffeur-driven Maybach four minutes before the perimeter gates locked down.”
A dark, thunderous scowl crossed Lucas’s face.
“She’s running,” Lucas said, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
“She knew the poison would fail or be traced back to her source. Where is she heading?”
“We tracked her phone’s ping to a private airstrip in O’Hare,” Victoria replied, tapping a few keys on the laptop and spinning the screen toward us.
“And she wasn't traveling alone. Look at this security footage from the ground-floor loading dock twenty minutes after the gala incident.”
Victoria hit play on a high-definition video file.
The screen showed Claire rushing through the loading dock, wearing a heavy winter coat over her evening gown.
Meeting her by a dark sedan was not her chauffeur—it was Arthur Sterling, the senior vice president of Meridian’s primary competitor, Sterling Global Logistics.
My breath caught in my throat.
Sterling Global.
The same company that had been trying hostile corporate takeovers against Meridian Tower for the past three years.
“Sterling,” Lucas hissed, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white.
“He’s been trying to bankrupt my company for a decade. And Claire was his inside plant all along.”
“It goes deeper than that, Lucas,” Victoria said grimly, pulling up a second file.
“I accessed Claire’s private corporate email server using her administrative backdoor keys. Look at the financial ledgers transferred out of Meridian’s subsidiary accounts over the last six months.”
Numbers and wire transfer receipts scrolled across the screen.
Millions of dollars.
Diverted quietly through offshore shell companies registered in the Cayman Islands.
“She was bleeding Meridian dry,” Victoria continued.
“And when you announced last month that you were restructuring the board and auditing all subsidiary accounts, they realized you were going to discover the missing funds. They had to eliminate you before the audit went public.”
Lucas turned his head slowly, his piercing ice-blue eyes locking onto mine.
“And you saved my life,” he said softly, breaking the heavy tension in the room.
“Twice in twenty-four hours. You’ve become an expensive habit, Bailey.”
“I’m a medical professional, Mr. Bennett,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the electricity crackling in the air between us.
“Saving lives is what I do. Though next time, could you pick a less dramatic venue than a ballroom full of screaming billionaires?”
A rare, genuine smile touched the corners of Lucas’s lips, softening the hard lines of his face.
“No promises,” he muttered.
Then his expression hardened once more into the ruthless CEO of Meridian Tower.
“Victoria, contact federal prosecutor Miller. Tell him I want arrest warrants issued for Claire Vance and Arthur Sterling for corporate espionage, embezzlement, and attempted assassination by the end of the hour.”
“Consider it done,” Victoria said, turning smartly on her heel and walking out of the penthouse.
Left alone in the quiet expanse of the penthouse, the room felt suddenly smaller, warmer.
Lucas shifted in bed, wincing slightly as his ribs pulled against the heavy medical wrap.
“Come here, Bailey,” he instructed quietly.
“Mr. Bennett, I told you—”
“Come here,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I hesitated, then walked over to the side of his bed, looking down at him.
Without warning, Lucas reached out, wrapping his warm, strong fingers around my wrist and pulling me down until I was sitting on the edge of the mattress.
“You risked your life for me twice,” Lucas murmured, his eyes searching my face with an unsettling, profound vulnerability.
“In a world where everyone only cares about what I can give them, you gave me your breath. Why?”
I looked down at his hand holding my wrist, feeling the steady, strong thud of his pulse beneath his skin—a pulse I had dragged back from the dead.
“Because,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
“Every life matters. Even a billionaire’s.”
Lucas reached up with his free hand, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
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“You’re wrong about one thing, Bailey,” he whispered, his face inches from mine.
“I’m not just a billionaire to you anymore. And you’re certainly not just my night cleaner.”
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