Chapter 5 - What Matthias Had Been Hiding From Everyone

At 10:44, the east salon erupted in applause.

Malcolm’s presentation had begun.

A polished video filled the large screen at the far end of the room, all glass buildings, smiling engineers, aerial footage, and phrases about growth that meant nothing to anyone who knew how much could be hidden behind a clean corporate font.

From the old pantry, we could hear the music.

Arthur swore.

“He did it anyway.”

“That may help us,” Maya said.

“How?”

“Everyone’s attention is in one room.”

Evan’s voice came through her radio.

“Reed is at the archive corridor. He tried the first access point and backed off.”

Arthur looked at Maya.

“Because he doesn’t have the cards.”

“Or because he expected someone else to bring them.”

I looked at Fiona.

She had gone pale.

“Peter,” she said.

“Your assistant?”

“Malcolm’s assistant. He knew the vendor schedule. He knew which staff entrances were being used tonight.”

“He left at nine fifty,” Matthias said.

“That’s what security thinks.”

Maya spoke into the radio. “Verify Wills actually exited the property. Vehicle, face, not just badge.”

A voice answered.

“Working.”

The clock turned.

10:45.

Nothing happened.

No alarms.

No screams.

No sudden darkness.

I did not feel relieved.

Schedules made by people planning crimes were not medical monitors. They did not owe us accuracy.

Evan said over the radio, “Reed is moving again. He’s heading toward the service stairs.”

Maya looked at Arthur.

“Where do those stairs go?”

“Basement, kitchen level, old wine rooms.”

“And communications?”

“Different corridor.”

Fiona stood.

“I know where he’s going.”

Everyone looked at her.

“The old document lift.”

Arthur’s face changed.

“What?”

“There’s a dumbwaiter-sized records lift between the basement archive staging room and the west office corridor. Malcolm asked about it two months ago. He said it was for moving presentation materials.”

Arthur looked furious with himself.

“I forgot that thing existed.”

Matthias was already at the door.

Maya blocked him again.

“We stay coordinated.”

“I’m not sitting in a pantry while Malcolm walks through my parents’ house.”

I looked at him.

“You’ve been sitting on information for weeks.”

His head turned.

The silence that followed was different from the others.

Fiona looked down.

Arthur’s eyes narrowed.

“What information?”

Matthias’s face hardened.

“Not now.”

“No,” I said. “Now.”

“Serena.”

“Every time you say that, I like my name less.”

He closed his eyes for a moment.

The presentation music outside swelled.

Then he looked at his father.

“I saw one of the Hensley vendor reports before compliance flagged it.”

Arthur’s expression went still.

“When?”

“Six weeks ago.”

“And?”

“There were payments routed through three consulting companies.”

“The same names?”

“I didn’t know that then.”

“You asked Malcolm?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“That Hensley used them for regional permitting and labor relationships.”

Arthur took a step toward his son.

“And you accepted that?”

“I had no reason not to.”

Fiona made a small sound.

Matthias turned.

“What?”

“You had a reason after I told you.”

His face changed.

I looked between them.

“What did she tell you?”

Matthias did not answer.

Fiona did.

“I found one of the consulting companies registered to an address that didn’t exist.”

Arthur stared at her.

“When?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“And you told Matthias.”

“Yes.”

I looked at my husband.

He met my eyes.

There was no way to soften this.

“What did you do?”

“I told legal to review it.”

“Quietly?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t stop the acquisition.”

“It wasn’t my decision alone.”

“You’re the CEO.”

“I answer to a board.”

“You also answer to reality.”

His jaw tightened.

“I was trying to avoid detonating a deal worth eight hundred million dollars based on one bad address.”

Fiona laughed bitterly.

“You were trying to avoid admitting Malcolm might be dirty because your father built the company with him.”

Matthias turned on her.

“And you were sleeping with me while collecting evidence behind my back.”

The room went dead.

There it was.

The affair spoken aloud.

Not hinted.

Not disguised as business.

Not hidden behind New Haven.

Arthur looked at his son as if he had become a stranger.

Maya looked away.

I did not.

“Say it clearly,” I told Matthias.

His face lost its anger.

“Serena.”

“Say it.”

He swallowed.

“I had an affair with Fiona.”

The sentence hurt less than I expected.

Maybe because the wound had already happened.

Naming it only gave it edges.

“How long?”

“Five weeks.”

Fiona looked at me.

“I tried to end it after New Haven.”

Matthias’s eyes moved toward her.

“You tried because you became afraid of Malcolm.”

“No. I tried because I finally understood what kind of man you become when something threatens your image.”

That landed.

Matthias said nothing.

I almost thanked her.

Almost.

Then I remembered the necklace.

“When did he buy that?”

Fiona touched the diamonds as though she had forgotten they were there.

“The morning after New Haven.”

She unclasped it.

Her hands shook.

“I shouldn’t have worn it.”

“No,” I said. “You shouldn’t have accepted it.”

She lowered her eyes.

“I know.”

“Good.”

I had no interest in making her beg.

I had even less interest in protecting her from the consequences of choices she made willingly.

But the threat in the house mattered more.

For another hour, maybe another day, we would have to be useful to one another.

After that, we could be honest about what we were.

Maya’s radio crackled.

“We found Wills.”

“Where?” she asked.

“Security video shows him changing jackets in the staff garage. He never left. Badge exit was handed to a catering driver.”

Arthur swore.

“Current location?”

“Unknown.”

Maya looked at Fiona.

“What does he look like?”

“Thirty-eight. Brown hair. Glasses. About five ten.”

I remembered a man near the coatroom when I arrived.

Not clearly enough.

Too many black suits.

Too many white shirts.

Too many men trained to disappear inside expensive rooms.

The clock read 10:48.

The scheduled “system interruption” had passed by one minute.

Still nothing.

Then the lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

The presentation screen in the east salon went black.

Guests murmured.

Emergency lighting came on almost immediately.

Warm chandeliers faded to low amber strips along the walls.

My heart kicked hard.

Maya’s radio filled with overlapping voices.

“West camera feeds down.”

“Kitchen power holding.”

“Archive corridor offline.”

“East salon secure.”

Evan’s voice cut through all of them.

“Everyone stays where they are.”

Arthur started toward the door.

I caught his sleeve.

“Don’t.”

“My wife is out there.”

“So are sixty other people. Evelyn is doing exactly what I asked.”

“You don’t know that.”

Neither did I.

That was the worst part.

But panic did not become wisdom just because it came from love.

Maya opened the pantry door and looked into the corridor.

Low emergency lights glowed along the baseboards.

No one was visible.

She turned to me.

“We move you to the east salon.”

“I’m staying.”

“No.”

“I can help.”

“You already have.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“It is if staying becomes another problem we have to manage.”

I hated the sentence.

I also recognized it as true.

Matthias stepped forward.

“I’ll take her.”

“No,” I said.

He stared at me.

“Serena, for once—”

“For once what? Let my husband escort me to safety after bringing his affair partner to Christmas?”

His face tightened.

“Not the time.”

“You used that line already.”

Arthur looked exhausted.

Fiona looked ashamed.

Maya looked like she wanted every member of the Dre family to stop speaking.

I took a breath.

Then another.

My daughter moved.

That decided it.

I was responsible for more than my anger.

“All right,” I said. “East salon.”

Maya nodded.

We stepped into the hall.

Matthias came with us despite my silence.

Fiona followed because Maya would not leave her alone.

Halfway to the salon, a service door opened ahead.

A man emerged carrying a black document case.

Brown hair.

Glasses.

White shirt.

No jacket.

Fiona stopped.

“Peter.”

He looked at her.

Then at Matthias.

Then at me.

For half a second, nobody moved.

Peter Wills turned and ran.

Maya went after him.

Matthias started to follow.

I grabbed his arm.

“No.”

“He has something.”

“And Maya has legs that are not thirty-two weeks pregnant or emotionally compromised.”

He stared at me.

Then a metallic crash sounded from the corridor ahead.

A second later Maya shouted, “Stay back.”

We did.

Evan appeared from the opposite end with one of his investigators.

Peter was on the floor between them, not injured, just furious and pinned by the simple mathematics of three trained people and nowhere useful to go.

The document case had opened.

Papers had scattered across the marble.

One sheet slid almost to my shoes.

I bent slowly before Matthias could stop me.

The page was a photocopy.

At the top was an old Dre Holdings acquisition date.

Twenty-one years earlier.

At the bottom were three consulting-company names.

The same names Matthias had seen in Hensley.

And beside them, handwritten in blue ink, were Arthur Dre’s initials.

I straightened.

Arthur came up behind us.

He saw the page.

His face changed.

Not confusion.

Recognition.

Matthias looked at his father.

“Dad?”

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Arthur said nothing.

For the first time that night, Malcolm Reed was no longer the only person in the house with something to explain.