Chapter 4: What Marcus Needed to Hide
The Sarah Vance Suite was on the fourteenth floor.
Sarah had chosen the furniture herself — pale linen, dark wood, a window that looked out over the city's older rooftops rather than the newer glass towers.
She had said she wanted guests to feel like they were somewhere that had existed before them and would exist after.
I settled Lily into the bedroom, tucked the rabbit under her arm, and left the door open two inches.
Then I sat at the writing desk and called my lawyer.
Diane picked up on the third ring.
It was nearly eleven.
"Ethan.
What's wrong?"
"I need you to pull the Grand Regent's internal access logs for the past thirty days.
Server access, document access, anything that touches the ownership structure or the Vance Group asset register."
A pause.
"Tonight?"
"First thing tomorrow.
But I need you to know tonight so nothing gets touched before you do."
"What happened?"
"Marcus tried to keep me out of this building.
He used Harrison to do it.
He was watching the clock."
Another pause, longer this time.
"You think he's been in the files."
"I think he needed me gone before nine o'clock and it's now eleven and he's already texted to find out if it worked."
"Don't reply to him."
"I wasn't planning to."
"Ethan." Her voice shifted.
"If he's been in the asset register — if he's moved anything — we need to know before he knows we're looking."
"I know."
"I'll be there at seven."
I set the phone down and looked at the window.
The city below was still lit, indifferent, going about its night.
Marcus was four years younger than me.
He had been at every opening, every ribbon-cutting, every anniversary dinner.
He had given a speech at Sarah's funeral that made three rows of guests cry.
Afterward, he had held Lily while I stood at the graveside longer than I should have.
I had trusted him with the minority share because Sarah had asked me to.
*He needs to feel like he belongs to something*, she had said.
*Give him that.*
I had given him that.
My phone buzzed again.
Not a text this time.
A call.
Marcus.
I let it ring.
Five times.
Six.
It stopped.
Then immediately started again.
I picked up.
"Ethan." His voice was warm, slightly breathless, the way it always was when he was performing calm.
"I heard you had trouble at check-in.
I'm so sorry — the system migration has been a nightmare.
I was going to call Harrison myself but—"
"You already called Harrison," I said.
"Six days ago."
Silence.
"I read the email, Marcus."
The warmth left his voice like air from a punctured tire.
"That's not — that was taken out of context."
"'Keep him out.
I need him out of that building before nine.
Don't ask why.' What context am I missing?"
"I was trying to protect you." The warmth came back, adjusted, recalibrated.
"There's a situation with one of the investors at the gala tonight.
Someone who has a history with you.
I didn't want Lily exposed to—"
"Stop."
He stopped.
"You have until seven tomorrow morning," I said.
"If there's anything in the asset register or the ownership documents that shouldn't be there, I'm giving you until seven to tell me yourself.
After that, my lawyer handles it."
"Ethan, you're overreacting—"
"Seven o'clock, Marcus."
I ended the call.
The room was quiet.
Through the open bedroom door I could hear Lily's slow, even breathing.
I picked up the crushed bouquet of red roses from the side table where I'd set them when we came in.
Several petals had fallen.
The stems were bent.
I carried them to the window and stood there for a moment.
*I'll tell you tomorrow*, I thought.
*I'll tell you what your brother did.*
Then I set the roses in the water glass on the writing desk — the only vase I had — and went to sit beside Lily's door until I was sure she was deeply asleep.
My phone lit up one more time.
A text from Marcus.
*You're making a mistake.
There are things you don't know.*
May you like
I turned the screen face-down.
Whatever he thought I didn't know — by seven o'clock, I would.
