Chapter 5 - The Sister's Warning
Adeline’s fingers shook as she unlocked the deadbolt, pulled back the safety chain, and swung the door open just enough to keep the security bar engaged.
Eleanor Vance looked nothing like her brother in terms of facial structure, but she shared the exact same terrifying intensity in her eyes. Her trench coat was damp from the late-night mist, and her breath came in shallow, hurried puffs.
"May I come in?" Eleanor asked, her voice tight with panic. "Or would you prefer to discuss your impending assassination out here in the hallway?"
Adeline swallowed hard, unclipped the security chain, and pulled the door wide open. Eleanor stepped inside quickly, shutting and locking the door behind her with a practiced, hurried click.
She dropped her manila folder onto Adeline’s kitchen table and spun around to face her.
"You don't know what you've stepped into, Miss Pharaoh," Eleanor said, pacing across the tiny linoleum floor like a caged animal. "My brother thinks he can manage everything. He thinks his little empire of glass and steel protects him from the people who built it."
"Who are you talking about?" Adeline asked, crossing her arms defensively. "And why are you here? How did you even find where I live?"
"Julian’s security detail is currently parked downstairs," Eleanor said dismissively. "It wasn't hard to trace their coordinates. As for who I'm talking about... the men who cornered you tonight weren't random thugs. They work for Viktor Rossi."
The name dropped into the room like a lead weight. Even down in Adeline’s tax bracket, people knew the name Viktor Rossi. He was the ghost at the top of the city's underworld food chain—a man whose fingers were wrapped around shipping ports, real estate syndicates, and half the city council.
"Rossi?" Adeline whispered. "What does a mob boss want with a cleaning lady?"
"He doesn't want you. He wants what you touched," Eleanor said, stepping up to the table and flipping open the manila folder. She pulled out a stack of reconstructed, taped-together paper strips and laid them flat across Adeline’s table. "Tell me you didn't see this."
Adeline looked down at the paper. It was a cross-cut shredder ribbon, painstakingly pieced back together with transparent tape. It was an internal corporate memo from Vance Holdings, dated three days ago, detailing a multi-million-dollar land acquisition in the industrial harbor district.
"I emptied the shredder in Suite 1912," Adeline said carefully. "I didn't read anything. I just cleaned up."
"Suite 1912 isn't a tax firm, Miss Pharaoh," Eleanor said grimly. "It’s a front. A shell company operated by Rossi’s laundering network, disguised as a tenant to siphon capital out of my brother’s development projects. Three nights ago, someone in that office panicked and shredded evidence linking Rossi directly to Vance Tower’s construction financing."
Adeline stared at the taped-together document, the pieces of the puzzle violently snapping into place. "The men in the loading dock... they thought I took the papers."
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"They didn't just think it. They know someone emptied that bin," Eleanor corrected. "And if you didn't leave those papers in the trash room, that means you either have them in your possession, or Rossi thinks you do."
Before Adeline could process the terrifying implications, a loud crash echoed from the hallway outside her apartment door.
