The east wing of the Vance estate houses the guest suites and the secondary library. It is entirely disconnected from the primary living quarters, the master suites, and the vault where Preston keeps his physical ledgers. Whoever set the fire wanted a spectacle, not a casualty.
They wanted a headline.
"Malcolm."
Audrey’s voice pulls my focus away from the screen. She is standing on the other side of the desk, her hands gripping the edge of the mahogany. She is pale, her eyes wide, the oversized t-shirt hanging off her shoulders.
I reach across the desk and hit the power button on the remote. The television goes dark.
"I didn't do it," I repeat, my voice dropping to a low, absolute register. I need her to understand that fact before the chaos completely breaches the walls of this apartment.
"I know you didn't." She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't ask for proof. She just looks at me, her trust so absolute it feels like a physical weight in my chest. "You were with me. We were here."
"The police will not care where we were." I walk around the desk, stopping in front of her. "Preston controls the police commissioner. He controls the narrative. He will use the statement you made at the dinner table to establish motive."
"I said you would hand me the gasoline," she whispers, the realization making her physically flinch. "I handed him the motive on a silver platter."
"You handed him a metaphor. He turned it into a felony." I reach out, my hands gripping her upper arms. "Listen to me, Audrey. The next twelve hours are going to be critical. The police will arrive at this building. They will attempt to separate us. They will ask you questions designed to make you doubt my whereabouts."
"I won't talk to them," she says immediately. "I’ll call Vivian. She’s a lawyer."
"Vivian is a corporate defense attorney. This is a criminal investigation." I drop my hands from her arms and pick up my phone from the desk. I hit Grant’s speed dial. "I have a criminal defense team on retainer. They will handle the police."
Grant answers on the first ring. The sound of sirens is audible in the background of his call. He isn't at the penthouse.
"Sir," Grant says, his voice tight. "I am currently three blocks away from the estate. The perimeter is entirely locked down by the fire department."
"I am watching the news," I say. "Where is Preston?"
"He is giving a statement to the chief of police. Simon is with him." Grant pauses. "They are running the narrative, Malcolm. They are telling the police that you threatened to destroy the family tonight in the library, and that you have a history of violent retaliation."
A dark, humorless laugh escapes my throat. "They are framing me for arson to invalidate my testimony regarding the offshore accounts."
"If you are indicted for a felony against your own family, your credibility as a whistleblower is completely destroyed," Grant confirms. "The SEC will not touch the files. Preston neutralized your leverage."
It is a brilliant, desperate move. Preston realized he couldn't beat me in a boardroom, so he burned his own house down to remove me from the board entirely.
"The police are en route to the penthouse," Grant continues. "They have a warrant for your arrest."
"Understood." I look at Audrey. She is watching me, her thumb pressing hard against the side of her index finger. "Have the legal team meet me at the precinct. Do not let them bring Audrey in for questioning."
"I will intercept the detectives in the lobby," Grant says. "I am on my way."
I end the call.
I look around the office. The quiet sanctuary we built over the last two weeks is gone. The war has breached the perimeter.
"They're coming here," Audrey says. It isn't a question.
"Yes." I walk toward her, my hands sliding around her waist to pull her flush against my chest. "They are going to arrest me."
She gasps, her hands flying up to grip my shirt. "No. Malcolm, you can't let them take you. You have the security footage from the lobby. You have the elevator logs. We can prove you were here."
"The footage proves I entered the building. It does not prove I stayed in the building." I press my mouth to her forehead, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. "Preston will argue that I slipped out through the service elevator. He will pay someone to testify that they saw me near the estate."
"Then we leave." She pulls back, looking up at me with frantic, desperate energy. "We leave right now. We take the SUV and we go."
"If I run, I prove his narrative." I slide my hands up her back, anchoring her to me. "I am not going to run from my father, Audrey. I am going to let him arrest me. I am going to let him think he won."
