Chapter 4 - The Midnight Mirror
At 1:00 AM, the security monitors by the front gate flickered to life.
Headlights swept across the private driveway. A sleek, high-end sedan pulled up sharply, stopping right beneath the portico.
The car door slammed shut with an aggressive thud. Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed across the stone patio, followed by the frantic pounding of a fist against the heavy mahogany front door.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I didn't rush. I remained seated at my desk, turning a silver fountain pen slowly between my fingers, listening to the echoes of a man realizing his castle of cards was tilting in the wind.
The intercom on my desk chimed softly.
“Mrs. Vance?” our overnight security supervisor’s voice came through the speaker. “Mr. Andrew Vance is at the gate demanding entry. He’s... well, sir, he appears quite agitated.”
“Let him in, Thomas,” I replied evenly. “And unlock the front door. Save him the trouble of breaking it down like he did to my peace of mind.”
A few moments later, the front door swung open with a crash.
“Lauren!” Andrew’s voice boomed through the lower level, thick with alcohol, adrenaline, and fury. “Where the hell are you hiding? Do you have any idea what you did tonight? My mother is beside herself! The investors are asking questions about why my wife threw a childish temper tantrum and stormed out of our celebration!”
He stormed up the stairs, his tailored suit jacket wrinkled, his tie pulled loose around his neck. When he pushed open the office door, his eyes bloodshot and wide, he stopped dead in his tracks.
He had expected to find me cowering in the kitchen or pacing the hallway in tears, ready to apologize for embarrassing him.
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Instead, he found me sitting calmly behind a massive mahogany desk, bathed in light, looking at him as if he were an uninvited solicitor tracking mud across a clean carpet.
“You look ridiculous, Andrew,” I said quietly.
