Chapter 7 - The Fire Was Meant to Break HerThe residence was burning when they arrived.
Penelope was out of the car before it stopped moving.
“Penelope!”
Larkin followed.
Smoke rolled into the night.
Fire crews surrounded the east wing.
Residents wrapped in blankets sat beside ambulances.
Penelope searched every face.
“Eleanor Woods!”
A firefighter stopped her.
“Ma’am—”
“My mother is inside.”
“We’re evacuating.”
“Where is she?”
“Penelope.”
Larkin caught her.
She fought him.
Actually fought.
“Let me go!”
“Listen.”
“My mother—”
“She’s out.”
Penelope froze.
A nurse appeared through the smoke.
“Ms. Woods!”
Penelope turned.
Eleanor sat in a wheelchair near an ambulance.
Blanket around her shoulders.
Confused.
Alive.
Penelope’s knees nearly collapsed.
She ran.
“Mom.”
Eleanor looked up.
“Penny?”
Penelope dropped beside her.
“Yes.”
Her voice broke.
“Yes, Mom.”
Eleanor touched her face.
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Penelope laughed through tears.
“Maybe a little.”
Eleanor looked toward the burning building.
“Someone burned dinner.”
Penelope closed her eyes.
“Something like that.”
Larkin stood several feet away.
He did not interrupt.
Later, investigators found the fire had started in an electrical room.
Accelerant.
Deliberate.
Security footage had been disabled for 11 minutes.
One guard was missing.
The other had been found unconscious.
Thomas had crossed the line.
There was no ambiguity now.
At 1:00 a.m., Eleanor was moved again.
This time to a private medical floor inside a hospital controlled indirectly by the Steeves organization.
Penelope sat beside her until she slept.
When she stepped into the corridor, Larkin waited.
His shirt sleeves were rolled up.
There was soot on one cuff.
Blood on his knuckles.
Penelope looked at it.
“Whose?”
“Wall.”
“Did the wall survive?”
“Barely.”
She leaned against the corridor.
For the first time since the gala, she looked exhausted rather than armored.
“I thought she was dead.”
Larkin said nothing.
Penelope stared at the floor.
“For 30 seconds, I thought I had killed my mother.”
“You didn’t.”
“I brought this to her.”
“No.”
“I took the promotion.”
“Penelope.”
“I challenged Thomas.”
“Stop.”
His voice sharpened.
She looked up.
Larkin stepped closer.
“Thomas set the fire.”
“Martin helped.”
“They made choices.”
He held her eyes.
“You do not carry responsibility for choices made by men trying to control you.”
Penelope’s face tightened.
“That is convenient coming from you.”
“Yes.”
He did not defend himself.
“Because I understand control.”
The honesty stopped her.
Larkin looked through the window into Eleanor’s room.
“My father taught me that protection and possession were the same thing.”
His voice became quieter.
“If he loved something, he locked it away.”
Penelope listened.
“My mother lived behind gates.”
“Armored cars.”
“Guards.”
“She could buy anything.”
A pause.
“She could not choose anything.”
Penelope had never heard him discuss his mother.
“What happened to her?”
“She left.”
“When?”
“I was 17.”
“Where?”
“Europe.”
“Do you speak?”
“Christmas.”
He almost smiled.
“She sends terrible sweaters.”
Penelope’s mouth moved.
Then faded.
Larkin looked at her.
“I understand why I want to put you behind 20 armed men.”
He stepped closer.
“I also understand why that would make you hate me.”
“I wouldn’t hate you.”
“No?”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“I would leave you.”
That landed harder.
Larkin nodded.
“Then I won’t do it.”
Penelope stared.
“You make that sound simple.”
“It isn’t.”
His hand lifted.
Stopped.
He waited.
Penelope understood.
Permission.
She stepped forward.
His arms closed around her.
This time, she did not cry.
She simply stood there.
Breathing.
Alive.
At dawn, Penelope returned to Steeves Tower.
Larkin objected.
Once.
Then saw her face and stopped.
The executive floor was nearly empty.
Penelope entered her office.
Marcus sat inside under guard.
His wrists were restrained.
He looked terrible.
She dismissed everyone except Larkin.
Then sat opposite Marcus.
“Tell me everything.”
Marcus did.
Martin Vale had been planning against Larkin for nearly 2 years.
Not to kill him.
To weaken him.
Martin believed Larkin had modernized too aggressively.
Reduced the commission’s influence.
Cut traditional kickbacks.
Centralized authority.
Penelope’s promotion accelerated the threat.
She was building systems Martin could not manipulate.
Thomas became useful after the gala.
His humiliation transformed resentment into obsession.
Together, they planned to remove Penelope and make Larkin appear unstable.
The fire had not been Martin’s idea.
Thomas ordered it independently.
Martin had been furious.
“Where is Martin?”
Penelope asked.
Marcus hesitated.
“Probably preparing to run.”
“And Thomas?”
“I don’t know.”
Penelope looked at Larkin.
“Thomas has money somewhere.”
“Yes.”
“Accounts I haven’t found.”
“Yes.”
“He’ll need them now.”
She turned back to Marcus.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Penelope stood.
“Then we find them.”
For 18 hours, she worked.
No sleep.
Barely food.
Larkin remained nearby.
By midnight, Penelope discovered a pattern.
Thomas had hidden money through casinos.
Small deposits.
Gaming chips.
Cash-outs.
Cryptocurrency conversions.
Then offshore movement.
“Atlantic City.”
Larkin came closer.
“What?”
“He has a reserve.”
Penelope pointed.
“Approximately $6 million.”
“Where?”
“Cold storage.”
“Physical wallet?”
“Yes.”
“Location?”
Penelope opened property records.
Thomas owned nothing personally.
But one corporation controlled a warehouse near the New Jersey waterfront.
Larkin reached for his phone.
Penelope stopped him.
“We need him alive.”
Larkin looked at her.
“He tried to burn your mother alive.”
“Yes.”
“Penelope.”
“Alive.”
Her voice hardened.
“Martin is the larger problem.”
“Thomas can give us Martin.”
Larkin stared.
Then nodded.
The warehouse was empty.
Almost.
They found weapons.
Cash.
Passports.
A cold-storage crypto wallet.
And photographs.
Hundreds.
Penelope leaving work.
Penelope at her apartment.
Penelope visiting Eleanor.
Penelope with Larkin in Miami.
One photograph showed them kissing through the hotel window.
Penelope stared.
Larkin took it down.
His expression was murderous.
Then Penelope saw something else.
A map.
Steeves Tower.
Red markings.
Access points.
Security routes.
Elevator systems.
Thomas was not running.
He was planning an attack.
Penelope turned.
“When is the commission meeting?”
Larkin’s face changed.
“Tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“The tower.”
“What time?”
“Noon.”
Penelope looked at the map.
Thomas had marked the executive conference room.
“He isn’t coming for me anymore.”
May you like
She looked at Larkin.
“He’s coming for everyone.”
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