Chapter 7: The Gala Ends Early
Detective Reyes asked me to stay in the building and not to approach Andrew directly.
I agreed to both.
What I did not agree to was staying in the dressing room.
I walked out into the corridor with Priya beside me and found Ethan standing at the far end of the hallway near the elevator bank, speaking quietly to two members of his security team.
Andrew was twelve feet away, seated on a small upholstered bench with his arms crossed and his jaw set in the expression he used when he was performing patience.
He saw me come through the door.
"Ava." He stood immediately.
"Whatever you've done—"
"Dr.
Vaughn." One of the security staff stepped forward.
"Mr.
Carter has asked that you remain here until—"
"I am not being detained by a private security guard." Andrew's voice had finally lost its smoothness.
Not by much.
Just enough.
"I am a guest at this event.
I have rights—"
"You're right," Ethan said, crossing toward him.
"You're not being detained.
You're free to walk to any of the four exits on this floor." He paused.
"My staff will simply walk with you.
To make sure you find the right one."
Andrew looked at me.
"You have no idea what you've started."
"She finished something," Priya said from behind me.
"There's a difference."
The elevator opened.
Two people stepped out — a woman in a dark blazer with a lanyard and a calm, unhurried expression, and a uniformed officer behind her.
Detective Reyes was younger than her voice had suggested.
She looked at Andrew the way someone looks at a problem they have already solved and are now simply administering.
"Dr.
Andrew Vaughn?"
Andrew's arms uncrossed.
His hands went to his sides.
"Yes."
"I'm Detective Reyes.
I'd like to speak with you downstairs." She glanced at me briefly — a look of acknowledgment, nothing more — and then returned her attention to Andrew.
"This way, please."
"Am I being arrested?"
"Not at this moment.
I'd like to ask you some questions."
Andrew straightened his jacket.
He looked at Ethan.
"Your foundation will not survive this.
I have friends on your board."
"Had," Ethan said.
Andrew looked at me one final time.
The performance was completely gone now.
What was underneath it was not rage.
It was something smaller and colder — the look of a man recalculating odds and finding they no longer worked in his favor.
"You'll regret this," he said.
It was the last thing he said to me.
Detective Reyes walked him to the elevator.
The doors closed.
The corridor went quiet.
Priya sat down on the bench Andrew had vacated.
She put her face in her hands, not crying — just breathing, the way you breathe when something you've been holding for a long time has finally been set down.
Ethan walked over to me.
He didn't say anything for a moment.
"The gala," I said.
"The foundation director made an announcement.
Medical emergency in the family.
Gracious applause.
Everyone is having their dessert course." He paused.
"Senator Collins sends his regards and said to call his office Monday."
A sound came out of me that was almost a laugh.
"You handled all of that."
"You handled the part that mattered." He looked at me carefully.
"How are you?"
I thought about the question honestly.
"I don't know yet," I said.
"Ask me tomorrow."
"I will," he said.
And the way he said it made clear he meant it as a promise, not a pleasantry.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
The same one that had sent the message to Priya.
One line:
*The envelope in your desk drawer.
Third floor.
Open it tonight.*
I showed it to Ethan.
He read it.
Looked up.
"You have a desk drawer on the third floor," he said.
"Yes.
My office."
"Have you opened it recently?"
"Not since Friday."
May you like
We looked at each other.
"I'll come with you," he said.
