Chapter 202:


    She ran for the private entrance — the one reserved for penthouse residents. Her coat was soaked through in seconds, the cold water seeping into the bandages on her left arm and making the burned skin scream.


    She reached the lobby. It was empty except for the night security guard, a man named Ralph who had smiled at her every day for five years.


    She crossed to the elevator bank and pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner.


    Beep.


    A red light shed. ACCESS DENIED.


    She frowned, wiped her thumb on her coat, and tried again.


    Beep. ACCESS DENIED.


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    “Mrs. Lancaster?”


    Isolde turned. Ralph was standing behind his desk looking ufortable, his eyes not quite meeting hers.


    “There was an upgrade this afternoon,” he said, his voice low. “Mr. Lancaster had an emergency security teame in — a private contractor. They installed apletely new hardwiredwork. He said the old one had beenpromised.”


    Compromised. By her. He had moved faster than she’d anticipated.


    “I live here, Ralph,” Isolde said, her voice steady despite the fury coiling in her gut. “I am his wife.”


    “I know, ma’am,” Ralph said, shifting his weight. “But the list — your name isn’t on the new ess roster. Only Mr. Lancaster and Ms. Escobar have administrative ess.”


    Ms. Escobar.


    Belle had locked her out of her own home.


    “I need to get upstairs,” Isolde said, her voice rising. “I have personal property in that apartment. Medical supplies.” It was a small lie, but a necessary one.


    “I can’t let you up without authorization,” Ralph said, his face etched with regret. “My hands are tied. I’m sorry.”


    She turned away, fighting the urge to scream. She walked back to the vestibule, out of Ralph’s pitying gaze, and pulled out her phone. Not to call Grayson. Never again to beg.


    She dialed And. It rang once.


    “Isolde? What’s wrong?”


    “He’s installed a new physical security system at the Tower. A Citadel-7. I’m locked out. Can you get in?”


    A pause, then the sound of rapid typing. “It’s military-grade. Brute force is out. But every system has a maintenance protocol. I can trigger a simted catastrophic failure in the HVAC controls on the penthouse level — it will force a system-wide security bypass for emergency services for exactly ny seconds. When you hear the rm, you’ll have one shot at the elevator.”


    “Do it,” she said, and hung up.


    She walked back to the elevator bank, her heart pounding, and stood watching the floor indicator — ignoring Ralph’s worried stare.


    Thirty secondster, a piercing rm tore through the lobby. Red lights began to pulse.


    EVACUATE. EVACUATE. FIRE SUPPRESSION SYSTEM ACTIVATED — PENTHOUSE LEVEL.


    The elevator panel, previously dark, zed to life. The biometric scanner glowed green.


    She pressed the button. The doors slid open. She stepped inside just as Ralph was reaching for his radio, his face creased with confusion. The doors closed, sealing her in silence as the car began its rapid ascent.


    The elevator opened directly into the penthouse foyer. The warmth of the apartment hit her like a physical blow, making her cold, damp skin prickle.


    She stepped out, dripping water onto the marble floor.


    “Who’s there?”


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