Chapter 6 - The Anatomy of an Execution
I opened the door to the bridal suite three inches, my hand tightly gripping the iron crowbar behind the frame.
Mateo stood in the corridor, his face pale, his hands shaking as he held a silver tray filled with empty crystal flutes. When he saw my face—the grease, the blood, the blue patches of frostbite—his eyes widened in absolute terror.
"Oh my God," he whispered, stepping into the room and closing the door quickly behind him. "They... they said you were crazy. They said you were downstairs in the car."
"They tried to kill me, Mateo," I said, my voice cracking but steady as I looked into his eyes. "The money Ethan gave you wasn't for a break. It was to buy your silence while I froze to death behind that glass."
Mateo dropped the silver tray onto the velvet sofa, the crystal glasses clattering together without breaking. "I didn't know, Mrs. Miller! I swear! I went back to the kitchen after twenty minutes, and the freezer latch was thrown. I heard something in the vents. I knew Mr. Miller was a big deal in the city, but I didn't think..."
"I need your help, Mateo," I said, grabbing him by the front of his wet apron. My fingers were still cold, but my grip was like iron. "They are downstairs in the grand ballroom right now. They think I'm dead. I need you to get me into the AV control room behind the stage."
Mateo looked at the yellow folders scattered across the vanity table, then looked at the blood on my silk slip. A sudden, fierce spark of defiance lit up his young face. "The tech guy, Marcus, is on their payroll. But he's currently at the bar getting a drink before the speeches start. The master control panel is unlocked."
Ten minutes later, I was standing in the narrow, dark gallery behind the ballroom's massive projection screen.
Through the thin fabric of the scrim, I could see the entire reception. Two hundred of Boston's most influential people—judges, lawyers, journalists, city council members—sat at round tables covered in white linen and silver candelabras. The air was thick with the scent of roasted beef and expensive perfume.
In the center of the stage stood Ethan, his arm wrapped tightly around Vanessa’s waist. Vanessa was still wearing my wedding gown, her face glowing under the pink follow-spots as she smiled at the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Ethan's voice boomed through the high-end sound system, his smile perfect, his eyes crinkling with that practiced, tragic warmth. "Thank you all for coming tonight. As many of you know, my beautiful wife, Chloe, has been fighting a private, courageous battle with her health over the last year. Unfortunately, the pressure became too much for her this afternoon. She left the hotel an hour ago to seek medical rest."
The crowd let out a collective, sympathetic murmur.
"But the Miller Campaign does not stop," Ethan continued, his hand tightening around Vanessa's shoulder. "And Vanessa Vaughn has agreed to step into the light beside me, not just as my chief strategist, but as the woman who will help me lead this city into a new era."
May you like
Behind the screen, my hand reached for the main master override switch on the digital projector.
"Let's see what the strategy looks like, Ethan," I whispered to the dark.
