Chapter 10 - The Secret of the East Wing
The heavy brass key turned in the deadlock of the East Wing guest suite with a sharp, echoing snap. I pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit room, the scent of expensive perfume and nervous sweat hanging heavily in the air. Vivian sat curled up on the edge of the velvet sofa, wrapped tightly in the heavy cashmere wrap I had given her on the offshore terminal hours earlier. Her hair was disheveled, her makeup ruined, and her eyes wide with terror. “Are you here to kill me, Gabriel?” she whispered. I closed the door quietly behind me, walking slowly across the Persian rug toward her. “Kill you? That would be far too merciful, Vivian. You’re going to live a very long, very quiet life.” She flinched, clutching the cashmere wrap tighter. “My father is gone... our accounts have been seized... what’s left for me?” “Exactly what you earned,” I replied. “A lifetime of irrelevance. Tomorrow morning, a private car will take you to a secluded estate in the Swiss Alps. You will live there under an assumed name with a modest monthly stipend.” Vivian’s breath hitched. She stared up at me, the last vestiges of her high-society pride finally shattering into dust, before burying her face in her hands and sobbing violently. I watched her for a moment longer, turned my back, and walked out, locking the deadbolt behind me for the final time.
