Chapter 4 - The Invitation
Gabriel kept the gun raised with his right hand while he crouched down with his left, his fingers trembling as they brushed against the heavy parchment envelope. He tore the flap open and pulled out a single sheet of thick, cream-colored cardstock.
Typed neatly across the center were three lines of text:
You are cordially invited to a final accounting. Date: Monday, November 14th — 10:00 AM. Location: The Bennett-Standard Building, Suite 400, Baltimore.
At the bottom, in place of a corporate signature, was a hand-stamped wax seal bearing the emblem of an architectural compass intersecting with a wolf’s head—the historic crest of the original Bennett syndicate that Gabriel’s father had spent thirty years trying to erase from the corporate registry.
Gabriel dropped the paper as if it were burning his skin.
"Gabriel... what is that?" Vanessa whispered, peering over his shoulder, her voice trembling as she read the words on the floor. "Who sent this? Is it the feds?"
"No," Gabriel breathed, cold sweat breaking out along his hairline. "It’s not the feds."
"Then who? We can call your security team! Where is Marcus? Where are the guards outside?"
Gabriel didn't answer. He rushed to the floor-to-ceiling windows of his study, pushing the heavy velvet curtains aside to look out at the front courtyard.
The black SUVs that usually lined the circular driveway were gone.
The perimeter gates were propped wide open, swinging lazily in the cold autumn wind.
The guard station was completely empty, the lights inside flickering off, leaving behind a chilling message without words: You were never guarded, Gabriel. You were merely contained.
"They're gone," Gabriel whispered, stepping back from the window. "All of them. My entire detail... they didn't quit. They stood down."
"Stood down?" Vanessa shrieked, hysteria finally breaking through her composed exterior. "What do you mean they stood down?! Call the police! Call someone!"
"There is no one to call," Gabriel said, his knees suddenly feeling weak. He sank slowly into his leather desk chair, staring blankly at the cream-colored invitation on the floor.
He finally understood.
The diamond bracelet he had bought Vanessa. The secret hotel rooms. The condescending remarks about Claire’s background. The arrogant belief that he was the spider sitting safely at the center of a web of power and influence.
It was all a game.
From the very first day Claire Bennett had walked into Riley’s Steakhouse in Philadelphia six years ago—droplets of rain on her jacket, exhaustion in her eyes, working a double shift to pay her mother’s medical bills—she hadn't been a victim of circumstance.
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She had been hunting.
And now, the trap had snapped shut.
