Chapter 10
Mara had three seconds before the service door latched behind her and became a fact she could not undo. The corridor outside Studio B’s sound-mixing room had gone bright-white with broadcast spill, every monitor in the control strip flashing the same six words in block capitals: PRESERVATION ORDER IN EFFECT. Below it, the countdown had dropped again—05:41:09—and the number sat there like a judgment.
“Do not move that panel,” Adrian Sloane said over the studio’s open intercom, his voice smooth enough to pass for mercy. “All evidence in this room is now under legal preservation. Any interference will be treated as spoliation.”
Mara stopped, her hand still curled around the edge of the service hatch she had just forced open. The encrypted stick was in her pocket, warm from her palm. Behind her, estate security was already filling the corridor in black jackets with earpieces and padded gloves, not rushing, which was worse. They were not here to fight. They were here to box her into a choice.
Tessa stood inside the doorway to the control booth, one hand braced on the frame, her studio makeup still perfect in the sick white glare. She looked at Mara once, then away, her face a mask of practiced neutrality that Mara now recognized as pure, unadulterated fear. Tessa had given her the clue, and now Adrian was closing the trap. The preservation order wasn't just for the studio; it was for Tessa, too.
“Mara,” Adrian’s voice echoed, closer now, from the main studio floor. “The order applies to you as well. Any item you possess that relates to the Vale estate, including any unauthorized documents or data, must be surrendered immediately. Failure to comply will result in a charge of obstruction and a permanent forfeiture of any claim.”
Forfeiture. That was the real threat. Not just jail, but the legal erasure Victor had always wanted. The countdown on the monitor seemed to pulse, a digital heart beating down her remaining time. She had the stick, Lena’s final, coded message, but Adrian was making it toxic. If she handed it over, he’d bury it in legal procedure. If she kept it, she’d lose everything else.
Her gaze flickered to the service hatch. It was a narrow, dark opening, barely wide enough for a person, leading into the crawl space between Studio B and the archive wall. Lena’s decrypted map had shown it: a hidden route, a conduit for something more than just waste lines. The black ledger’s 'VALE-EC-007' entries, the Emergency Contingency payments, had cross-referenced this exact space. Lena hadn't just hidden a ledger; she’d built a trail.
“Mara, this is your last chance,” Adrian said, his tone hardening. “Cooperate, and we can still resolve this without further incident.”
Resolve this. He meant bury this. Mara’s fingers tightened around the stick in her pocket. Lena hadn’t just disappeared; she’d laid a trap, and Mara was now caught in it, but not alone. Tessa, pale and rigid in the doorway, was also implicated. Lena had trusted Tessa to point Mara to the second copy. Now, that trust was a liability.
“What about Tessa?” Mara called out, her voice cutting through the intercom’s static. “She’s been here the whole time. Is she under the preservation order too?”
A beat of silence. Adrian hadn’t anticipated that. He wanted to isolate Mara, not expand the circle of suspicion. Tessa flinched, her eyes darting to Mara, then to the security guards who had now formed a silent, impassive line, blocking the corridor.
“Ms. Ruan is a valued employee,” Adrian finally said, his voice regaining its composure. “Her cooperation is assumed. Your actions, however, are a matter of record.”
Her cooperation is assumed. That was a threat. Tessa’s career, her access, her reputation—all on the line. Mara had to make a choice: use Tessa as leverage, exposing her complicity to Adrian, or protect her and risk losing the stick to Adrian’s legal machinery. Lena’s intricate plan had now ensnared them both.