POV: Celeste's POV
"Are the cameras down?" I whispered into my phone as I crept through the dark lobby. My pulse pounded in my ears like a warning drum.
"Yes," the low reply came. "Feeds are looping. No one will notice for hours."
I pressed the phone away from my ear. My breath was steady, though my body trembled with adrenaline. Tonight had to go perfectly. If I failed, Damon's world would stay intact. I couldn't allow that.
I smoothed the front of my dark blazer. The spare key to Damon's office burned in my pocket. I had lifted it months ago, when he least suspected. Now I would use it. I would prove I was not gone. I would show I still had power over him.
I slipped past the reception desk. The lights were dimmed; only emergency exit signs glowed faintly. My heels made almost no sound on the marble floor. I kept to the shadows. I reached the security control room door. It stood slightly ajar, as arranged. I leaned in and pressed my ear. No voices. Perfect.
I stepped inside. Monitors glowed with empty corridors or looped footage. I moved quickly to the console. My fingers flew over keys, entering the override codes I had planted earlier. The live feeds paused, replaced by repeating video from hours before. No blinking red alert. No sudden changes. The system would stay blind until the board meeting started tomorrow.
"Cameras are off," I murmured, feeling a thrill. Anyone watching would only see an empty hallway. I closed the override so it could not revert unexpectedly. This was my insurance.
Next, I needed Damon's office. I left the control room and navigated corridors I knew well. The silence pressed in around me. Each step had to be quiet. My heart beat fast, but my face stayed calm. I could not show fear.
At the door to the executive wing, I paused. I checked for motion sensors above the frame. There were none here; the cameras were disabled. Only the door log would record my entry—but I had arranged for that log to show a routine maintenance check by a staff ID I controlled. No one would suspect.
I reached into my pocket and took out the spare key. I slipped it into the lock. It turned smoothly. The door clicked open. My pulse spiked as I entered.
Damon's office was dim except for the soft glow of the city lights outside the window. His desk lamp was off, but I could see papers neatly stacked. I inhaled a slow breath. The scent of leather and faint cologne lingered, as if he had just left. A reminder of all the times I'd been here—even after he tried to erase me.
I moved to the desk. There it was: the manila folder stamped "Board Meeting – Q2 Acquisition." This was what I came for. I lifted it slowly, careful not to make a sound. The folder felt heavy with his ambitions. If I stole it, I could stop his plan. The board would scramble. Confidence would falter. I would watch his empire wobble.
I slid the folder into my bag. Then I rifled through the desk for any extra notes or emails. I found printed drafts of negotiation points, a marked-up term sheet, and an advance letter to shareholders. All valuable. I tucked them in carefully.
My hands trembled for a moment. I saw a framed photo of Damon and me from happier times. I paused, fingers hovering over the glass. I turned it face down, leaving a faint fingerprint. A subtle reminder: I'd been here again, unseen.
Suddenly, a soft click echoed from the door handle. My breath hitched. I pressed myself flat behind the desk. My bag lay at my side, heavy with stolen papers. The door handle nudged. Someone was outside. My skin prickled. Was security alerted? Or was it Godson Crane doing a routine check after the camera glitch? I had minutes, maybe seconds.
"Hello? Anyone here?" came a low voice. I recognized the tone: Godson's calm, controlled voice. He expected nothing unusual. That was my chance to slip away—quietly and fast.
I edged toward the window. The fire escape ledge was risky but my best exit. I unzipped my bag and held the stolen folder close. I needed to act now.
The door opened slowly. Godson stepped in, phone light scanning the desk. He paused, noticing the slight shift: the desk lamp's angle was wrong, papers slightly moved. He frowned.
Godson: "This room shows signs of entry." He moved closer, eyes narrowing on the desktop. He touched the empty spot where the folder had been. My chest tightened.
I dared not breathe. I pressed against the window frame. Godson took another step, phone light tracing the desk's edge. He lifted a paper with my faint fingerprints. My heart hammered.
I activated a small device in my bag—a brief pulse to jam electronics briefly—and tossed it toward the door sensor. Lights flickered. Godson looked up, startled.
Godson: "What the—?"
I seized the moment. I pushed open the window and slipped onto the ledge. Cold night air hit me. Godson lunged toward the window too late: I dropped down onto the fire escape platform below with a muted thud.
My pulse roared as I descended the metal stairs two floors down. Behind me, I heard Godson's voice calling out. Security alarms might start soon. I had to vanish.
At ground level, I emerged into a narrow service alley I knew well. I changed my shoes and jacket quickly from the bag I'd hidden earlier. The stolen folder I secured in a courier bag I kept close.
My phone buzzed:
Unknown: "Folder secured. Next phase?"
I texted back:
Me: "Yes. Distribute false copies at dawn. Watch chaos unfold."
I slipped into the street crowd. The night air was cool. My heart still pounded. Damon's empire would wake to trouble. Board members would scramble for missing documents. Confidence in his leadership would shake.
But I felt a prick of unease: Godson had almost caught me. He would trace the breach. Westin security was ruthless. I needed to cover my tracks further.
I crossed the street under a dim streetlamp. In a passing reflection, I saw a man in a dark coat pausing, watching me. I stopped, heart leaping. He melted into the crowd. Was he following? My breath caught. Westin's network moved fast. They would seek the intruder.
I turned down an alley, changed direction. The phone buzzed again:
Unknown: "Security tightens. Be careful."
I nodded to myself, though alone. I moved with purpose, toward a safe location where my contact awaited the stolen documents. I handed them off to a driver I'd arranged earlier. He took the folder into his car trunk without a word.
I exhaled. For now, the files were gone from Damon's hands. But the fall-out had just begun.
As I walked away, I thought of Damon waking tomorrow. He'd enter the boardroom. He'd open his briefing packet. The key document would be missing. Panic, disbelief, fury. The board would suspect sabotage. They'd wonder who inside his circle could betray him. He might think of Aria. He might even suspect me again—though I'd grown distant. Or he'd suspect a rival. Either way, his world would tilt.
But I felt a twist of regret too: this act would affect Aria. She worked for Damon. She trusted him. When the crisis hit, she would suffer shock and fear. I had to accept that. My revenge was ruthless.
My phone buzzed a final time:
Unknown: "Prepare for tomorrow. They will investigate today. Stay hidden."
I typed:
Me: "Understood."
I slipped into a taxi and gave a false address. As the city lights streaked past the window, I leaned back, mind racing. I had accomplished my goal, but danger pressed close. Godson's near-discovery meant the chase had begun.
I closed my eyes, heart still racing. The stolen documents were out of Damon's hands, but he would strike back. And I would have to be ready.