On the morning of the Centennial Gala, I worked from my penthouse office while rain pressed against the panoramic windows. Julian, my head of security, projected surveillance footage onto the wall-sized screen across from my desk.
The first clip came from a camera in the water-stained hallway outside Leo Guzman's apartment. Chloe had him against his door, one hand braced on the peeling paint and her phone held inches from his face.
"You'll be there tonight." She held up her phone and showed him an audio waveform. "I recorded the night you gave me your real name. You admitted Arthur Vance was dead and that you stole the key from his things. I have all of it, Leo."
Sweat ran from his temple. "Chloe, please. We can disappear. I have a little money saved."
"I don't want a little money. I w
