Chapter 7 - The Master Suite
*(Word count: ~1,500 words)*
The elevator climbed with dizzying speed, the floor numbers flickering past on the digital display: 40... 50... 60... 75... 80.
A soft, melodic chime echoed through the small cabin. The oak doors slid open, revealing an enormous, two-story foyer paved in white Italian marble.
The penthouse was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the panoramic wall of floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out over the sprawling, rain-drenched city below. Millions of amber and silver streetlights glittered in the dark like fallen stars. The apartment was vast, minimalist, and suffocatingly quiet. It felt less like a home and more like a museum built for a ghost.
"Stay close to me, Mateo," Eugenia whispered, keeping her hand firmly clasped around his.
They walked silently across the polished marble, their shoes making faint squeaks against the stone. Eugenia’s eyes darted across the shadows. The living room was dominated by modern white leather furniture, an enormous grand piano that looked untouched, and several massive portraits of Valeria Garza hanging from the walls. Not a single photograph of Alejandro Garza was on display. Valeria had already erased him from his own home.
Eugenia found the floating glass staircase leading to the upper mezzanine. She led Mateo up the steps, her heart hammering in her throat with every creak of the glass treads.
At the end of the second-floor landing was the master suite.
The heavy double doors were unlocked. Eugenia pushed them open, revealing an opulent bedroom dominated by a king-sized canopy bed draped in black silk. The air inside the room was heavy with Valeria’s sickeningly sweet jasmine perfume.
Eugenia turned her penlight toward the western wall.
There it was: an enormous oil painting depicting the rugged, sun-drenched peaks of the Monterrey mountains. The colors were rich, dominated by ochre, deep greens, and towering blue skies.
"This is it," Eugenia murmured, hurrying across the deep wool carpet.
She reached behind the heavy, gilded frame, feeling along the wall until her fingers found the small metal release latch Alejandro had described. She pressed the lever. With a soft click, the entire five-foot painting swung outward on hidden brass hinges, revealing a flat, brushed-titanium safe embedded deep within the concrete wall.
In the center of the safe door was a glowing blue digital scanner, flanked by a numerical keypad.
The screen blinked with white letters: *BIOMETRIC AUTHENTICATION REQUIRED. FAMILY ARCHIVE ACCESS.*
Eugenia dropped to her knees, looking at Mateo. "Mateo, do you remember the mark on your hand?"
The boy looked at his right palm, nodding quietly.
"I need you to press your hand against that blue light," Eugenia said, guiding him closer. "Press it flat, right in the center. Don't move until the light turns green."
Mateo stepped forward. He lifted his small, uninjured right hand and pressed his palm firmly against the glass sensor.
A red laser line swept down the glass, scanning his palm from fingertips to wrist.
For three terrifying seconds, the safe remained silent. Eugenia held her breath, her fingernails digging into the carpet. *What if the sensor failed? What if Alejandro’s registration of the boy had been corrupted or purged?*
Suddenly, the screen chimed.
*BIOMETRIC MATCH CONFIRMED: GARZA, MATEO (PRIMARY HEIR).*
*OVERRIDE AUTHORIZED.*
A heavy mechanical clunk reverberated inside the wall. The four-inch titanium door popped open an inch, its pressurized seal releasing with a soft hiss.
Eugenia let out a trembling gasp of relief. She pulled the heavy door wide open.
Inside the safe were three velvet-lined shelves. On the top shelf sat two velvet jewelry boxes and stacks of bundled hundred-dollar bills. But Eugenia didn't care about the money.
On the middle shelf lay a thick, leather-bound document stamped with the gold seal of the State Notary Public: *LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ALEJANDRO GARZA (AMENDED).*
Beside the legal document was an encrypted, military-grade black titanium USB drive, alongside a small, silver velvet box containing a worn silver chain and a heart-shaped locket.
Mateo gasped. He reached past Eugenia’s shoulder, his fingers trembling as he touched the silver locket. "Mama’s necklace..."
Eugenia picked up the locket and gently popped the clasp. Inside were two tiny photographs: on the left was Elena Cruz, radiant, laughing, with windblown dark hair; on the right was a younger Alejandro Garza, his arm wrapped around her waist, looking at her with pure, unadulterated devotion.
"He kept it for you," Eugenia whispered, tears blurring her vision. "He kept it safe."
She slipped the chain around Mateo’s neck, tucking the silver heart under his jacket so it rested against his chest. Then, she snatched the thick legal document and the black USB drive, stuffing them into her internal jacket pocket and zipping it securely.
"We have what we need," Eugenia said, turning toward the door. "Let's go."
As they stepped onto the second-floor mezzanine, the low hum of the service elevator echoed from the far end of the foyer below.
Eugenia froze.
The service elevator chime rang out—clear, sharp, and terrifying in the silent penthouse.
*Ding.*
The oak doors slid open on the ground floor.
Two men stepped out into the dark living room. They were dressed in dark tactical jackets, with earpieces curled behind their ears and handguns holstered beneath their coats: Valeria’s private security detail.
"Check the upstairs," one of the men said in a low, gravelly voice, pulling a high-powered flashlight from his belt. "The front desk said the maintenance alarm in garage B-2 was triggered five minutes ago. Mrs. Garza said if anyone touches this floor, we put them down."
Eugenia grabbed Mateo’s hand and pulled him back into the shadows of the master bedroom, her heart hammering against her ribs like a sledgehammer.
They were trapped. The only staircase leading to the ground floor was in direct line of sight of the guards’ flashlights.
The beam of light cut across the mezzanine railing, dancing toward the master suite door. Heavy, combat-booted footsteps began ascending the glass staircase, slow, deliberate, and relentless.
"I hear something up there," the second guard whispered, the click of a pistol safety disengaging echoing up through the stairwell.
Eugenia looked around the master bedroom desperately. There was no back exit. The panoramic glass windows were sealed shut.
Her eyes landed on the expansive master bathroom. Inside was a secondary service closet containing a centralized laundry chute that dropped straight down through the building’s service spine to the sub-basement sorting facility.
It was a seventy-foot vertical drop. A grown adult would break their neck.
*No. Not the chute.*
Then, she noticed the access ladder inside the closet: an emergency maintenance crawlspace leading to the building's exterior HVAC gantry, installed for window-washing rigs.
"Mateo," she whispered, pulling him into the bathroom and closing the door without locking it—a locked door would only confirm their presence.
She shoved open the narrow metal hatch leading into the concrete HVAC shaft. The cold roar of the city wind and the torrential rain instantly blasted into the room. Fifty stories up, the wind screamed against the steel girders like a living beast.
"We have to climb down one level to the fire escape," Eugenia said, looking down the slick metal rungs. "Hold onto my neck, Mateo. Wrap your legs around my waist and do not let go."
Mateo didn't cry. He didn't hesitate. He wrapped his small arms around Eugenia’s neck, burying his face into her shoulder.
Eugenia gripped the freezing steel rung of the exterior ladder. She stepped out into the howling storm, fifty stories above the abyss, the rain lashing against her face like needles.
Behind her, inside the bathroom, the door was kicked open with a violent crash.
"Hey! Over here!" a voice shouted over the wind.
A flashlight beam blasted through the hatch, illuminating Eugenia’s soaked hair.
A gunshot cracked—sharp and deafening. The bullet sparked off the concrete coping inches above her head, sending chips of stone biting into her cheek.
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Eugenia didn't look back. She scrambled down the metal rungs with reckless, desperate speed, her boots slipping on the wet steel, every muscle in her body screaming as she carried the child through the storm.
***
