Chapter 2 - The Man in the Elevator
The elevator chimed.
Anna stopped breathing.
I had seen fear before.
I had watched executives realize they were about to lose companies. I had watched investors discover that a deal worth hundreds of millions had collapsed. I had once sat across from a man under federal investigation while he learned that three people he trusted had agreed to testify against him.
None of them looked like Anna did now.
She wasn't afraid of consequences.
She was afraid of a person.
“Take the children into the bathroom,” I said.
She stared at me. “What?”
“Now.”
The elevator chimed again.
Anna rushed to the bed, but I caught her arm before she could wake Sophia.
“Don't.”
She looked down at my hand.
I released her immediately.
“They're safer asleep. Lock yourself in the bathroom. Don't open it until I tell you.”
“Mr. Martin—”
“Adrian.”
Her frightened eyes met mine.
“Go.”
Anna disappeared into the bathroom.
I stepped into the hall and closed the suite door behind me.
Two hotel security officers stood near the elevator.
Between them was an NYPD officer.
And beside him stood a man wearing an expensive gray coat.
He was handsome in the polished, practiced way some men were handsome because they needed strangers to trust them.
“Mr. Martin,” the officer said. “Sorry to disturb you.”
The other man stepped forward.
“Where are my children?”
I ignored him.
“Officer?”
“Officer Reynolds. We received a report involving two missing minors. Their father believes their mother brought them here.”
The man extended his hand.
“Eric Silva.”
I didn't take it.
His expression changed for less than a second.
That second told me more than the handshake would have.
“Do you have a warrant?” I asked.
Reynolds hesitated.
“No.”
“Then nobody enters my suite.”
Eric laughed softly.
“This isn't about your hotel, Martin. My wife is unstable. She took my children.”
“Your wife works here.”
“She used to.”
That interested me.
“You don't decide that.”
His jaw tightened.
The officer stepped between us.
“Mr. Martin, we're trying to make sure the children are safe.”
“They are.”
Eric's face sharpened.
“So they're inside.”
I looked at Reynolds.
“The children are sleeping. Their mother is with them. There is no immediate emergency in that room.”
“You don't know my wife,” Eric said.
“No. But I've seen her wrist.”
Silence.
Eric's expression barely moved.
Then he smiled.
“My wife bruises easily.”
I had spent twenty years in business learning when people were lying.
That sentence didn't require twenty years.
“Officer,” I said, “I'd like Anna to speak with you without her husband present.”
Eric stepped forward.
“You have no right—”
“This is my property. I have every right to decide who stands in this hallway.”
Reynolds looked at Eric.
“Wait downstairs.”
“Those are my children.”
“And we'll sort that out,” Reynolds said. “Downstairs.”
Eric stared at me.
Something cold entered his eyes.
“You have no idea what you're involving yourself in.”
“Maybe.”
I stepped closer.
“But you're leaving this floor.”
For one moment, I thought he might swing at me.
Instead, he smiled.
“Ask Anna why she was evicted.”
Then he entered the elevator.
The doors closed.
Twenty minutes later, Anna sat in my living room explaining everything to Officer Reynolds.
The bruises.
The threats.
The controlling bank account.
The night Eric threw a chair through the nursery door.
The emergency custody petition her legal-aid attorney had helped her prepare but had not yet been heard.
She had photographs.
Messages.
A voicemail.
Reynolds listened to part of it.
Eric's voice came through the phone.
“If you ever take my kids away from me, Anna, I'll make sure nobody gets to have them.”
The officer's face changed.
“Send me this.”
Anna nodded.
Reynolds left shortly before two.
Eric would not be taking the children tonight.
But nothing was resolved.
Anna stood immediately.
“I'll get them dressed.”
“Why?”
“I have to leave.”
“Where?”
“I'll figure it out.”
“At two in the morning?”
Her cheeks flushed.
“I've already caused enough trouble.”
“You haven't caused trouble.”
“I hid children in your bed.”
I glanced toward Sophia and Samuel.
“I've had worse hotel guests.”
Anna almost smiled.
Almost.
Then her expression collapsed.
“I could lose them.”
“No.”
“You don't understand.”
She hugged herself.
“Eric's family has money. His father knows judges. His brother is a lawyer. Eric has been telling people for months that I'm unstable.”
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“Who do you have?”
She looked at me.
“Nobody.”
The answer landed harder than it should have.
I walked to the desk and called my chief of staff.
“Adrian?” Daniel answered sleepily.
“I need the company attorney here at seven.”
“What happened?”
“And find me a family-law attorney.”
Silence.
“A family-law attorney?”
“The best one in New York.”
“Adrian, it's two in the morning.”
“That's why I'm calling you instead of Google.”
I ended the call.
Anna stared at me.
“I can't afford an attorney.”
“I didn't ask you to.”
“I can't accept this.”
“Then don't accept it for yourself.”
I nodded toward the bed.
“Accept it for them.”
She looked at her children.
Her resistance cracked.
Samuel suddenly sat up.
His sleepy eyes moved around the unfamiliar room until they landed on me.
“Mommy?”
Anna hurried over.
“I'm here, sweetheart.”
Samuel pointed at me.
“Who's that?”
Anna hesitated.
Before she could answer, Sophia opened her eyes.
She looked at me, then at the enormous bedroom.
“Are you a prince?”
For the first time that night, I laughed.
“No.”
Sophia considered that.
“Do you have pancakes?”
I looked at Anna.
She covered her face.
And somehow, in the middle of the worst night of her life, she laughed too.
At 2:17 in the morning, I called room service.
By 2:30, two three-year-olds were eating pancakes in my presidential suite.
Anna sat beside them.
For the first time since I had walked through the door, she looked almost safe.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
It showed me standing in the hallway confronting Eric.
May you like
Beneath it were six words.
You should have stayed out of this.
