Chapter 119
Alexander
It was Madison’s 1*******m profile picture – a casual shot of her smiling in what looked like a park, sunlight catching in her hair.
What the hell was Anthony doing with Madison’s profile pulled up on his phone? And why would he think she had anything to do with this? A prickle of irritation ran up my spine. I knew Anthony was her mother’s doctor, but were they talking regularly?
Tyler squinted at the screen. “She’s pretty,” he said, then shook his head. “But no, definitely not her.
I felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over me. Not that I’d seriously considered Madison could be involved – the idea was absurd. Still, something about seeing her face in this context had set my teeth on edge.
The storage room door suddenly swung open, flooding the dim space with light from the hallway. A short, balding man in an immaculate tuxedo stood in the doorway, clipboard in hand. His eyes widened when he spotted me.
“Mr. Knight! What an unexpected pleasure to find you here.” His gaze shifted to Tyler, and his expression hardened. “Tyler! What on earth are you doing? You should be tending the bar, not hiding in storage with our most important guests!”
Tyler looked like he might pass out from the combined stress. “Mr. Donovan, I—”
I stepped forward smoothly. “Actually, this is my fault, Donovan. I recognized Tyler from another event and wanted to personally request that special whiskey he mixed for me last time.” I flashed my most disarming smile. “You know how particular I am about my drinks.”
Donovan’s expression softened immediately. “Of course, Mr. Knight. We aim to please. But we really do need Tyler back at the bar.”
“Five minutes,” I promised. “Then he’s all yours.”
Donovan hesitated, then nodded and backed out, closing the door behind him.
The moment the door shut, Leo grabbed Tyler by the collar again. “You got lucky. Now, did you get a name? Anything else you remember about this woman?”
Tyler’s face was a mixture of relief that Donovan had interrupted and fresh terror that we weren’t done with him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
“I swear to God, I don’t know anything else,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “She never gave me a
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name. Called herself ‘S‘ in the messages. That’s it.”
“S?” I repeated, my mind immediately running through a mental Rolodex of women whose names started with that letter. “Sophia, Scarlett, Samantha…”
Tyler shook his head frantically. “Just ‘S.‘ One letter. Like it was some spy movie bullshit.”
Leo tightened his grip, his knuckles turning white against Tyler’s now–wrinkled collar. “What about her appearance? Hair color? Eye color? Accent? Anything distinctive at all?” (1
“Dark hair, I think? Maybe brown or black? It was in a bun,” Tyler stammered. “No accent I could place. Just… rich–sounding, you know?”
“Rich–sounding,” Leo echoed with disgust. “Very helpful.”
“What was she wearing?” I pressed.
Tyler closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Some fancy coat. Beige or tan, I think. Designer, definitely. And heels. Red ones.
I exchanged glances with Leo. This description could fit half the women in Manhattan’s upper
echelon.
Anthony stepped forward suddenly, grabbing Tyler by the shoulders and spinning him around to face him. The move was so unexpected that Leo actually released his grip, allowing Anthony to take
over.
“Listen carefully,” Anthony said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Our team will be watching you. Every move, every breath, every goddamn drink you pour. If we find anything suspicious–anything at all–you’ll be arrested before you can blink for drugging Mr. Knight. And that’s just the beginning.”
Tyler’s eyes widened as Anthony continued.
“We have connections in places you can’t even imagine. The kind of connections that can make sure you never tend to bar in this country again. The kind who can make sure your sister’s medical bills mysteriously triple overnight.”
Tyler looked like he might wet himself. “I swear, that’s all I know! Please, I just needed the money!”
I decided it was time to wrap this up before Donovan returned. I stepped forward, straightening my jacket.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Tyler,” I said, my voice calm but firm. “You’re going to forget this conversation ever happened. You’ll go back to your bar, pour drinks, and act like nothing’s wrong.”
Tyler nodded eagerly. “Yes, absolutely, Mr. Knight.”
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“But,” I continued, “if you remember anything else about this woman–a name, a detail, anything- you contact us immediately.” Leo slipped a business card into his shirt pocket. “And if we find out you’ve lied to us or withheld information…”
I let the sentence hang in the air, unfinished. Sometimes, the threats people imagine are far worse than anything you could articulate.
“Your life as you know it will be over,” I finished simply. “Are we clear?”
“Crystal clear, Mr. Knight,” Tyler said, nodding so vigorously I thought his head might detach from
his neck.
Anthony released him, stepping back to allow Tyler space to breathe.
“Five minutes are up,” I said, glancing at my watch. “Donovan will be looking for you.”
Tyler straightened his uniform with shaking hands, trying to smooth out the wrinkles Leo’s grip had
left on his collar.
“I really am sorry, Mr. Knight,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know what was in
that drink, I swear.”
“Get out,” Leo growled.
Tyler didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled for the door, fumbling with the handle in his haste
to escape.
Once he was gone, the storage room fell into silence, broken only by the distant thump of music from
the main event.
Leo adjusted his cufflinks. “Do you believe what he said?”
I ran a hand through my hair, considering the question. The bartender’s fear had seemed genuine, but fear doesn’t always correlate with truth.
“We can’t come to any conclusions until we find out who did this,” I replied, straightening my tie. ” Tyler’s just a pawn. Someone wanted me incapacitated at that event, and I need to know why.”
“And who,” Leo added.
“Especially who.”
My gaze shifted to Anthony, who was scrolling through his phone. The image of Madison’s profile on his screen lingered in my mind. Why had he pulled her photo up so quickly? Almost as if he’d had it ready.
The question burned on my tongue, but I swallowed it back. Asking would reveal too much interest in
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my assistant. Our arrangement was private–necessarily so. If word got out that I was sleeping with Madison while paying her mother’s medical bills, the board would have a field day. Not to mention the PR nightmare.
“We should get back,” Anthony said, pocketing his phone. “People will start to notice we’re missing.”
I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere. Who was this mysterious “S“? The description was frustratingly vague. Dark hair in a bun, designer coat, red heels. That could be half the women in my contact list.
“Let’s keep an eye on our bartender friend,” I said as we made our way back toward the main event. If this ‘S‘ person contacted him once, she might try again.”
Leo nodded. “I’ll get the footage from Café Bleu. If this meeting happened, we’ll find it.”
“Good. And Anthony-“I turned to him, careful to keep my tone casual, “-check with your hospital contacts. See if anyone’s been asking about my medical history.”
Anthony raised an eyebrow. “You think someone was trying to trigger a specific reaction?”
“I think I’m not ruling anything out,” I replied. “Whatever was in that drink, it wasn’t just for fun. Someone wanted me vulnerable.”
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.
