Chapter 4 - The Security Log
The storm outside reached its crescendo around midnight, howling against the stonework of the North Shore estate like an army of ghosts. Inside Gabriel’s private study, however, the air was dead, cold, and charged with absolute silence.
Landon Mercer stood by the mahogany bookshelf, staring down at the tablet screen where the digital audit trail displayed the complete transaction history of the forged prescription. His face was the color of wet chalk.
"Dr. Vance’s signature was forged on the electronic requisition," Landon said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The server logs show the request was routed through an IP address registered to a residential property in Manhasset—owned by Julian’s shell company."
Gabriel sat behind the desk, completely still. The color had returned to his face, and his eyes were as cold and hard as winter steel. He hadn't touched the red pills since I showed him the photos. The sudden clarity in his mind had given him back his authority with interest.
He looked up from the tablet, fixing his gaze on Landon. "Where is Julian now?"
"He's hosting a private dinner at the Manhattan Yacht Club with three members of the board," Landon replied tightly. "Celebrating the upcoming Monday vote. They think you're incapacitated in bed."
A slow, humorless smile touched the corners of Gabriel’s mouth. "Do they? How unfortunate for them."
Gabriel turned his head slowly, his gray eyes finding me where I stood quietly by the door, holding my cleaning caddy as if I were waiting to wipe down the desk.
"Emily," he said, using my first name for the first time since I had arrived at the estate.
"Yes, Mr. Cross?"
"How much did you say your rent arrears were?"
I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"The debt hanging over your head. The one your ex-boyfriend saddled you with."
I swallowed hard. "Two thousand eight hundred and forty dollars for the back rent. Plus legal fees from the equipment loan fallout... roughly nine thousand total."
Gabriel nodded once, then looked at Landon. "Clear her balance by sunrise. Pay off the equipment loan in full. And draft a new employment contract naming her Director of Estate Operations at executive-tier compensation, effective immediately."
Landon didn't blink. He just nodded. "Done."
"Wait," I said, stepping forward. "You're hiring me as an executive? I'm a housekeeper."
"You're the only person in this house who can spot a forged seam from twenty feet away," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a low, resonant command. "And right now, I need someone who knows how to tear out rotten stitches." He leaned forward, resting his powerful forearms on the desk. "Are you ready to go to work?"
May you like
I looked at the cleaning caddy in my hand, then at the tablet showing the conspiracy that had tried to destroy the man across from me. The exhaustion that had weighed me down for two years suddenly felt lighter, replaced by a cold, burning spark of vindication.
"Give me the broom," I said. "We have a lot of trash to sweep out."
