Chapter Three — The First Witness
The investigators separated Grant from his friends.
He was taken to a secure library on the estate’s second floor.
Preston Vale went to another room.
Councilman Sloane was escorted to a private office.
Senator Ellis remained in the ballroom under supervision.
The guests were interviewed in groups.
Some complained.
Others suddenly remembered details they had ignored.
A man who had laughed during the assault claimed he had been uncomfortable the entire time.
A woman who had turned her back insisted she had been looking for security.
A donor who had watched Grant grab my arm said he thought we were having a private disagreement.
Fear changed memory quickly.
But the cameras did not change.
Every angle had been preserved.
The hidden server made the situation more complicated.
Someone had installed professional surveillance equipment without authorization.
It had collected enough information to damage judges, politicians, business leaders, and public officials.
Grant could have demanded contracts.
Votes.
Regulatory approvals.
Silence.
My father joined me in the estate’s medical suite after the paramedic finished treating my injuries.
He entered wearing a dark overcoat over his evening suit.
For a moment, he did not speak.
He looked at the bruise beneath my eye.
Then at the torn sleeve.
Then at my hands.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked.
“No.”
“Did he threaten to kill you?”
“Not directly.”
Dad’s expression hardened.
“What did he say?”
“That if I kept investigating, people would decide I was unstable.”
My father closed his eyes briefly.
It was the oldest strategy in the book.
Discredit the person.
Then discredit the evidence.
“Why didn’t you tell me he was here?” Dad asked.
“Because you would have canceled the gala.”
“Yes.”
“And we needed him confident.”
“I would rather have lost the evidence.”
“I wouldn’t.”
He looked at me.
There was anger in his face.
But not at me.
At himself.
“I spent your entire childhood building security around you,” he said. “And you still learned to walk into danger alone.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
“You were when he touched you.”
Before I could answer, Agent Reyes entered.
“We have a witness.”
“Who?” I asked.
“A server named Daniel Kim. Twenty-four years old. He says he saw Grant enter the gala office with Councilman Sloane and Senator Ellis.”
“When?”
“Before the guests arrived.”
Dad turned toward her.
“Does he know what they discussed?”
“He was carrying wine into the private room. He heard them arguing.”
“About the ledgers?” I asked.
“About someone named Victor.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Agent Reyes continued.
“Daniel says Grant told the others that Victor had copied everything and was threatening to release it.”
“Where is the witness now?”
“In a secure room downstairs.”
“Who knows he spoke?”
“Only my team.”
My father’s phone buzzed.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
“What is it?” I asked.
He turned the phone toward us.
A text message had arrived from an unknown number.
THE WAITER WILL NOT LEAVE THE PROPERTY ALIVE.
Agent Reyes immediately reached for her radio.
“Lock down the witness room.”
She ran from the suite.
My father called the command center.
“Locate every device transmitting within five miles of the estate.”
I followed them into the corridor.
A security alarm sounded from the lower level.
Not the ballroom.
The service hall.
Someone screamed.
We reached the stairs as two officers rushed upward carrying Daniel Kim between them.
His white serving jacket was stained with red wine. His eyes were wide with fear.
Behind them, another security officer dragged a man away from a ventilation panel.
The man wore a catering uniform.
But he was not a member of the catering staff.
A small glass vial had fallen from his pocket.
Agent Reyes ordered the hallway cleared.
Daniel clutched her arm.
“He tried to put something in my water.”
The disguised man stared at us without expression.
“Who sent you?” Agent Reyes demanded.
He said nothing.
My father looked toward the ballroom cameras.
“Grant is under guard.”
“He may not be the one giving orders,” I said.
The disguised man finally smiled.
It was a small, calm smile.
Then he spoke.
“You think Holloway built this?”
His voice was almost amused.
“He’s just the face.”
Before Agent Reyes could question him further, he collapsed.
The officers caught him before he struck the floor.
A medical team rushed forward.
The man had hidden something inside his mouth.
He had taken it before anyone could stop him.
Agent Reyes ordered emergency treatment.
But his condition deteriorated rapidly.
Daniel Kim stood trembling against the wall.
I looked toward my father.
Grant Holloway had assaulted me.
Grant had stolen charity money.
Grant had helped build the blackmail network.
But someone above him was still outside the sealed ballroom.
Someone who knew the witness had spoken.
Someone who could communicate through a locked estate.
Someone who had just tried to silence the first person willing to tell the truth.
May you like
The gala was a trap.
But perhaps not the one I had designed.
