Kiley's bedroom had been transformed into a war room. Blueprints covered the Persian rug. Financial spreadsheets were taped to the silk wallpaper.
Bradley leaned against the doorframe, watching her. "You know, you could just fire everyone. We have the money to pay out the severance."
"No," Kiley said, tracing a line on the HVAC schematic. "If I just fire them, I don't find the rot. I need to know who enabled Goss. I need to know how deep it goes."
She pointed to a section of the hotel layout. "The Ballroom. The acoustics are terrible because they used cheap insulation in the walls during the last renovation. That was a Baker Corp construction job."
"You learned acoustics?" Bradley raised an eyebrow.
"I had a lot of free time, Bradley," Kiley said, her voice tight. "While Evertt was out at 'business dinners' with Adda, I wasn't just sitting around. I was managing my own shadow portfolio, refreshing my engineering certifications, and studying architectural diagnostics. I kept my mind sharp so my heart wouldn't kill me."
Keegan walked in, tossing an apple in the air. "Evertt really is an idiot. He had a Ferrari in the garage and treated it like a Honda Civic."
"He didn't want a Ferrari," Kiley muttered. "He wanted a mirror."
Liam knocked on the open door. "Miss Stafford, the car is ready. An Audi A8, as requested. Low profile."
"Good." Kiley grabbed her briefcase. She paused. "Liam, did Evertt's office call?"
"Three times this morning," Liam smirked. "I told them the GM is currently conducting a 'spiritual cleansing' of the office and cannot be disturbed."
Kiley laughed. "Perfect. Let him sweat."
"Before you go," Isam's voice boomed from the hallway.
The patriarch walked in. He was holding a black velvet case. It was old, the fabric worn in places.
Kiley's breath hitched. "Grandfather's cello."
Isam placed it gently on the bed. "You haven't played in three years. Since the... accident."
He looked at her left hand. There was a faint, thin scar running across her palm. Evertt believed it was from a broken wine glass he had dropped during a drunken argument years ago-a convenient lie Kiley had let him believe. In reality, the glass had merely aggravated an older, far more significant injury she had sustained years prior, one she never spoke of.
"The doctors said the hand is healed physically," Isam said softly. "The stiffness is in your head."
Kiley touched the velvet case. She could almost hear the deep, mournful resonance of the wood. "I can't, Dad. Not yet."
"Take it with you," Isam commanded. "Put it in your office. Let it remind you of who you are. You are a virtuoso, Kiley. Not a victim."
Kiley nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Okay."
She picked up the case. It was heavy, but it felt right. Like a limb she had forgotten she had.
Downstairs, the brothers walked her to the car.
Keegan slipped a small canister into her pocket. "Pepper spray. Military grade. If Goss gets handsy-and he will-blind him."
Bradley handed her a sleek black credit card. It had no numbers, just the Stafford crest. "Infinite limit. If the hotel needs something, buy it. Don't ask for permission."
Kiley hugged them both. "I'll make you proud."
"You already do," Bradley said.
She got into the backseat of the Audi. As the car pulled away from the safety of the estate, Kiley watched the trees blur past. She touched the scar on her hand.
She wasn't going to the hotel to play music. She was going to play the reaper.
