Kendrick stepped through the grand entrance of the hotel, but as soon as the door closed behind him, he picked up his pace, his phone still clenched tightly in his hand. The fresh outside air greeted him, yet his mind was far from enjoying the mont. He needed to get out of sight—quickly.
Just as he passed the side of the building, he nearly collided with Sophia, who had just finished a phone call. She arched a brow, her arms crossed as she scrutinized him.
"Why are you outside?" she asked, her voice carrying its usual calm authority.
Kendrick stiffened. He had no excuse prepared—a rare misstep for him.
Think fast.
"I-I just need to go out and buy so dicine for my stomachache," he blurted, clutching his abdon dramatically. His face twisted in mock discomfort, as if the re thought of his made-up ailnt caused him unbearable pain.
Sophia’s gaze lingered, her skepticism clear. Before she could ask further, Kendrick hastily added, "Nothing serious. I’ll be quick."
Without waiting for her to respond, Kendrick shuffled forward, each step punctuated with exaggerated grimaces. He cursed himself internally.
What a lousy excuse is that?!
Still, he didn’t dare look back. Keeping his head down, he maintained his act until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Only then did he straighten up, letting out an exasperated hiss. His cheeks burned with embarrassnt.
Still, it served its purpose. Sophia wouldn’t follow.
"That was embarrassing," he muttered under his breath.
"Of all things, a stomachache?" He couldn’t believe himself. Since when had his mind failed to co up with a better excuse?
Sophia, still standing near the entrance, shook her head slightly. Her lips curled into the faintest smile—a mix of amusent and disbelief—before she turned back toward the gala.
Kendrick, now free from watchful eyes, scanned his surroundings, smirking as he reminded himself that Mr. Lody’s basent was nearby. Unfortunately, without any of his equipnt, including his laptop, things wouldn’t be as easy.
The sudden order from Cassius had thrown him off guard, ruining his plan. He had no choice but to rely on his phone for now. But the screen was small, making it harder to work quickly. Every second counted, and he still needed to return to the event and expose the truth to complete the mission.
After so ti searching for information on his phone, he managed to find a blueprint of Mr. Lody’s vacation house.
The blueprint revealed a basent, hidden away beneath the vacation house, where the authentic paintings were supposedly stored. Guards patrolled the property, making any direct approach impossible. He weighed his options.
Disguise was usually his go-to thod for infiltration. He could have easily assud the identity of a hotel staff mber, a courier, or even one of the security guards. But without his usual resources — no wigs, colored contact lenses, or voice modulators — pulling off a convincing disguise was impossible.
He could lure a guard, knock him out, and steal his uniform. But without the usual hallucination spray to erase the most recent mories, the consequences would be severe. The guard would rember the attack, prompting an imdiate investigation. Not ideal.
Scaling the walls crossed his mind, but the patrolling guards made that plan equally reckless. Even if he hacked the security caras, the absence of his equipnt ant the job would be painfully slow. Every second counted.
Then sothing caught his eye—a faint marking on the blueprint. A hidden passage.
No guards. No caras. Perfect.
He tapped the screen, tracing the path. The passage ran underground, leading directly from the back of Mr. Lody’s vacation house to a concealed exit near the hotel owned by Varen Enterprises. Its design was clever—if anyone spotted movent, they’d assu it was connected to the hotel rather than the estate.
"Interesting," Kendrick murmured, a slight smirk forming.
---
The back of the hotel was far less glamorous than its lavish facade. While the front welcod wealthy guests and flashing caras, the rear was practical and unassuming. Delivery trucks lined the loading dock, with staff moving hurriedly, their tasks mundane.
Yet amidst the commotion, Kendrick’s sharp gaze caught what others overlooked—a nondescript maintenance door, partially obscured by stacked crates. There were no security caras, no staff lingering nearby. If soone didn’t know what they were looking for, they would simply walk past.
"Too easy," Kendrick whispered.
He approached the door and pressed his fingers against the old tal, noting the absence of any modern locks. With a swift push, it creaked open, revealing a dim corridor. The faint scent of damp concrete lingered in the air.
He slipped inside, allowing the door to close silently behind him. The lack of surveillance explained why The Archive had no footage of this space. It was the perfect cover for illegal operations.
The path ahead twisted and turned, with occasional flickers of light from rusted fixtures. Kendrick’s boots echoed softly, each step calculated. The further he walked, the quieter it beca. Soon, he reached the end of the passage—a reinforced door with a single, outdated lock.
---
anwhile, inside the venue, Zephany adjusted the strap of her small purse. The vibrant chatter of the wealthy and influential buzzed around her, but her mind was elsewhere. She had been keeping a ntal note of Kendrick’s movents, though she was careful not to make it obvious.
But now, he was gone.
"Where did he go?" she murmured under her breath.
Her stomach twisted. Part of her told herself not to care. It wasn’t like they were an actual couple, despite the elaborate facade. Still, the unease remained.
What if sothing happened?
She shook the thought away. She had a job to do. Cassius Varen had granted her the rare opportunity to cover this event — sothing even her fellow journalists at Air dia had failed to accomplish. Pia would be furious if she found out about her marriage like this. The thought made Zephany bite back a guilty smile.
At least Pia’s not here.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her cara and began capturing photos. Despite the glamorous surroundings, she focused on the people—their expressions, subtle gestures, whispered conversations. Everyone here held power, and power always had a story.
Cassius was among them, his presence effortlessly commanding attention. Yet, true to his nature, he remained enigmatic. Every step he took was deliberate, every smile calculated. He was a man wrapped in layers of mystery.
Zephany’s gaze flickered back to the entrance, half-expecting Kendrick to return. But the doorway remained empty.
She sighed. Where are you, Kendrick?
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