Chapter 3 - The Theater of Shadows
The morning sun reflected off the gray water of the Chicago River, painting the steel girders of the Lakefront Theater in cold silver.
I pushed through the construction gates with my hard hat tucked under my bandaged arm.
The scent of wet concrete, sawdust, and acetylene torches filled the massive cavern of the auditorium.
Scaffolding rose five stories into the vaulted ceiling, surrounding the grand proscenium arch like an iron cage.
I walked toward the western corridor where the private archives were housed.
A line of yellow caution tape barred the entrance, fluttering in the cold draft.
"I told the site manager that section was condemned until the structural engineers finished the seismic assessment."
The voice was soft, melodic, and entirely devoid of warmth.
I turned to find Victoria Hale walking down the center aisle of the orchestra seating.
She wore a beige cashmere coat, her dark hair pinned into an immaculate French twist.
There was no limp in her stride.
There was no sign of the knee brace she allegedly needed two nights ago in Manhattan.
"You're trespassing on an active construction zone without a visitor's pass, Victoria," I said evenly.
"I don't need a visitor's pass when my contract is signed directly by the board of Carter Holdings," she replied, stopping six feet away.
Her gaze drifted down to the thick gauze covering my right hand, a subtle smirk playing on her painted lips.
"I heard about your father, Claire."
"Such a tragic, senseless accident."
"It wasn't an accident," I said, holding her gaze without blinking.
Victoria tilted her head, her porcelain features remaining perfectly still.
"Grief makes people see conspiracies where there is only unfortunate bad luck."
"Ethan spent forty-eight hours holding your hand in New York while Julian died," I said.
"Did you plan that timing, or was it just a fortunate coincidence for your panic attack?"
Victoria took a slow step forward, her perfume masking the raw smell of construction dust.
"Ethan came to New York because when the world becomes terrifying, he always comes back to what is familiar."
"You were a quiet harbor he bought when he needed respectability, Claire."
"You gave him a pristine architectural firm and an untainted family name to wash the blood off his hands."
"But he doesn't love you."
"He protects you like an expensive piece of glass."
"And glass always shatters when the pressure gets high enough."
I stepped directly into her personal space, ignoring the sharp twinge of pain in my injured fingers.
"If I find out you had anything to do with my father’s car, Victoria, Ethan won't be able to save you from what I do next."
"You don't understand the machinery you're touching, little architect," Victoria whispered, her voice dropping into venom.
"Your father thought he was an honest man, but he lived off Carter blood money for thirty years."
"He died because he forgot his place in the food chain."
Before I could answer, the heavy service doors behind the stage clattered open.
Marcus Vance, Ethan’s head of private security, stepped into the shadows of the wings with two men in dark suits behind him.
"Mrs. Carter," Marcus said, his gravelly voice echoing through the hollow hall.
"Mr. Carter requests your presence in the downtown corporate office immediately."
May you like
"And Miss Hale," Marcus added, his cold eyes shifting to Victoria.
"Your presence has not been requested anywhere near this job site today."
