Chapter 2

Lauren’s birthday party was held on the banquet floor of a Midtown hotel. Clean, elegant, flawless—even the flowers at the welcome table had been arranged by color.

By the time I arrived, the staff at the entrance had already checked the guest list twice. Security stood on both sides, well trained enough not to let their eyes wander.

She thought this was her territory.

But from the moment I decided to let her play out her script, a few extra people had appeared on that floor. She just hadn’t recognized them.

I walked into the ballroom. The lighting was warm, the music low, and everyone was speaking at exactly the right volume.

Lauren came over to greet me, slipped her arm through mine, straightened my collar, and led me around to greet a few guests. Her smile was steady that night, her words polished and graceful, like a wife fully committed to managing both her marriage and her social image.

Brandon was there too.

He stood not far from Lauren, wearing a well-cut suit and holding a glass, like he was waiting for a single look from her to step in and serve. He didn’t come over to me on his own. He only gave a slight nod when my gaze passed over him, respectful enough that no one could fault it.

I didn’t need him to come close. I only needed to know he was there.

Half an hour into the party, everything was moving along as planned. Someone went onstage to give a toast. Someone else jokingly told me to make a birthday wish for Lauren. A few people pulled me aside to talk about the company’s next steps.

Two people from the board had shown up, and one of the investors had made an appearance too.

Lauren didn’t rush. She was patient. First she let the atmosphere warm up, let the guests drink enough to loosen up, let the crowd scatter into smaller conversations.

Later in the evening, the band switched to something lighter, and the guests broke off into twos and threes to chat. Lauren approached me with a glass of wine and smiled.

“It’s my birthday,” she said. “You have to at least drink with me once. Stop acting like a work machine.”

Her tone was light, halfway between teasing and reminding.

I took the glass and looked at her. “Just one?”

“Just one.” She nodded. “If you’re tired afterward, go upstairs and rest for a bit. You’ve been pushing too hard lately. I don’t want you forcing yourself to stay here.”

The concern came too smoothly. The smoother it sounded, the more obvious it was that she had rehearsed it.

I raised the glass and drank.

The taste hadn’t changed. I’d prepared for this in advance. One of my people had already switched the drink.

But I needed to sell the performance. She wanted me drowsy, so I let her think I was.

A few minutes later, I began slowing down, like the alcohol was hitting me. I rubbed my temple, swayed slightly on my feet, let my speech start to break apart. Lauren moved in immediately to support me. Her face showed concern, but her movements were fast.

She called over a hotel staff member and said I needed to be taken upstairs to rest in a suite.

“Room 176,” she said. “Don’t take him to the wrong one.”

The man helped me out of the ballroom.

The hallway was dimmer than the main room. The carpet was thick, swallowing our footsteps.

Lauren didn’t come out with us. She needed to stay in the ballroom and preserve her image. That way, when everything blew up later, she could keep herself clean.

When we reached the elevator, the security man I’d planted stepped up from the side, looking completely natural, a radio in one hand.

He took my other shoulder and said, “I’ll take Mr. Walker up. Everything’s already arranged upstairs.”

He looked professional in every detail—uniform, badge, earpiece, tone. He looked exactly like someone who belonged there.

The hotel employee didn’t want to linger in the hallway too long and attract attention, so he handed me over quickly.

The moment the elevator doors closed, I straightened up, loosened my tie, and dropped the dazed act.

The guard looked at me. “How is it?”

“Good,” I said. “How’s Brandon?”

He pulled a tablet from inside his jacket and handed it to me. “Almost ready.”

The screen showed live feeds from several key points in the hallway and suite area, all connected in advance by my people.

In the footage, Brandon, heavily dazed, was being guided by one of my men toward Room 176—the room prepared in advance for me.

His head hung low. His state looked a lot like mine had a few minutes earlier, except mine was an act. His wasn’t.

I’d had something slipped into his drink beforehand. It wouldn’t knock him out immediately, but it would make him more and more foggy, like getting increasingly drunk.

That was the advantage. He wouldn’t realize he’d been drugged. He’d just think he’d had too much to drink.

I didn’t go to Room 176. I went to another room on the same floor, farther down the hall.

I had booked it in advance and had it prepared. It was quiet, it had a clear view of the hallway feeds, and it was the right place to wait for the show to begin.

When I went in, a laptop and a few documents were already on the table. I sat down, opened the computer, and handled work the way I normally would. I answered two messages from the board and reviewed the talking points for a meeting the next day.

I didn’t need to pose like a hunter. I just needed to use my time where it mattered and wait for them to walk themselves into the place I wanted them.

One corner of the screen held the live surveillance feed.

After Brandon was taken into the suite, the door shut and the hallway went quiet.

As planned, the lights inside the room stayed off. The darkness was cover for them and insurance for me. As long as the lights stayed out, Emily wouldn’t realize the man in the bed wasn’t me.

I checked the time and kept working.

About half an hour later, Emily appeared at the far end of the hallway.

She was wearing a dress in a color similar to Lauren’s. She moved at an unhurried pace, looked left and right, then swiped her card and opened the door.

The motion was practiced. Clearly, she had rehearsed it.

The door opened just enough for her to slip inside, and then she shut it quickly behind her.

The hallway fell silent again.

I put on my headset and listened to the audio coming from the room.

It wasn’t crystal clear, but it was more than enough.

First came the soft sound of footsteps. Then Emily’s lowered voice, deliberately softened, trying to mimic Lauren.

“Are you asleep?” she asked. Her voice was tight, but she kept it controlled.

She didn’t turn on the light. She didn’t dare.

She moved closer to the bed, lowering her voice even more. “It’s Lauren. It’s my birthday today. Stay with me.”

Then came the slight creak of the mattress, followed by a man’s blurred reply.

As far as Brandon knew, I had already been set up and was now with Emily.

He knew nothing about my plan, and he had no idea he’d been taken to Room 176. So when a woman came to him in the dark, speaking in a voice deliberately shaped like Lauren’s, his drugged, foggy brain had no reason to question it.

He would only think Lauren had come to see him after the party.

I didn’t keep listening for long. I took off the headset and went back to the files on my computer.

Time passed bit by bit. I finished three emails and revised one page in the financing materials.

At one point, one of my people came in and placed a printed entry-and-exit record on my desk. He said everything was normal and that no one had gone near the suite.

I nodded and sent him back out.

Nearly three hours later, the hallway feed finally moved again.

The door opened, and Emily stepped out.

Her coat wasn’t fully buttoned. Her hair was a little messy. As she walked, she glanced back at the door, like she was checking whether the man inside had woken up.

Her face held a mix of excitement and tension she couldn’t hide. It wasn’t fear. It looked more like confirmation that the job was done.

She had never turned on the light. She still didn’t know who had been in that room.

And she had no idea that what she thought was Lauren’s assignment was actually my trap.

Emily hurried toward the elevator and disappeared from the screen.

I closed my laptop and stood up. It was about time.

Brandon couldn’t stay in that room much longer. At the very least, he couldn’t wake up and realize he was lying in the room originally meant for my setup. That would make him suspicious, and it would make Lauren’s next moves unstable. I needed them to keep following their original plan.

I pressed my earpiece. “Go in. Get him out.”

A short reply came back. “Understood.”

Two minutes later, two hotel staff members appeared in the hallway pushing a cleaning cart. They stopped at the suite door, swiped in, and entered smoothly without drawing attention. A moment later, a voice came through my earpiece again.

“He’s still under. We’ll give him another shot so he wakes up later.”

“Move him to another room,” I said.

“Understood.”

I stood there watching the suite door close again on the monitor, with no extra emotion left in me.

By this point, the whole setup had already turned.

If Emily left that quickly, it meant she would go report to Lauren right away.

Once Lauren heard the words it worked, she would move on to the next step: having Emily come forward at the right moment with her so-called evidence and pin everything on me.

She would think she had my weakness in her hands.

What she didn’t know was that the moment those elevator doors closed, the knife in her hand had already changed direction.