Chapter 28: The Man in Charcoal
Marcus moves like smoke through the crowd—never rushing, never drawing eyes, just a shadow in a suit slipping past clusters of investors and reporters. Reginald Hale reaches the side exit, pushes through the heavy door marked “Service Only.” The door swings shut behind him with a soft thud.
Bella and I are already moving. I keep her hand in mine, guiding her through the thinning edge of the crowd. Guests are still applauding the speech, still buzzing about the interrupted audio, still pretending they didn’t hear what they heard. No one notices us leave the main floor.
We slip into the service corridor—dim, concrete, lined with rolling carts and emergency lights. The air smells like bleach and old coffee. Marcus waits at the far end, earpiece glowing red.
