Chapter 2 - Twenty-Two Minutes Later
At 9:36 p.m., Peter Langford ran into the penthouse dining salon.
Peter had managed Calloway House for fourteen years.
He did not run.
Ever.
That alone should have warned Ethan.
“Mr. Calloway?”
Every conversation stopped.
Ethan looked around.
“He left.”
Peter stared at him.
“You sent him away?”
“I asked security to remove an disruptive guest.”
Peter's expression changed.
“Guest?”
Lily slowly stood.
“What happened?”
Peter ignored Ethan and looked toward Marcus.
“Where is Mr. Calloway?”
“Forty-first floor,” Marcus said. “He asked me to take him to his office.”
Ethan laughed.
“His office?”
Peter turned toward him.
“Mr. Mercer, what exactly do you think this building is?”
“A private residential and hospitality property.”
“Owned by?”
Ethan shrugged.
“Calloway Holdings.”
Peter waited.
Nobody spoke.
Then he said:
“Frank Calloway.”
The silence was absolute.
Ethan's smile disappeared.
Andrew Pierce lowered his wineglass.
Lily stared at Peter.
“What?”
“Your father owns Calloway House.”
Ethan laughed once.
It sounded forced.
“No.”
Peter didn't blink.
“He does.”
“My father-in-law was a maintenance worker.”
“Yes.”
“Then he retired.”
“No.”
Peter stepped closer.
“He bought his first distressed apartment building while he was still working maintenance shifts. Then another. Then another. Thirty-seven years later, Calloway Holdings controls seventeen properties.”
Someone at the table whispered, “Jesus.”
Lily sat down slowly.
Ethan shook his head.
“This is ridiculous.”
Peter noticed the brass key.
His face changed again.
“Where did you get that?”
Ethan looked down.
“Frank gave it to me.”
Peter picked it up carefully.
“This is the original master key.”
“To what?”
“The founder's archive.”
Lily suddenly covered her mouth.
She remembered.
When she was a child, Frank sometimes brought her downstairs while he worked.
There had been a green door.
A brass lock.
Her father would turn that exact key.
“Daddy's treasure room,” she whispered.
Peter heard her.
“Yes.”
Ethan looked from Lily to Peter.
“You expect me to believe the supposedly broke maintenance man owns this place?”
Peter's voice became colder.
“You've eaten here six times this year.”
“So?”
“Every bill was waived.”
Ethan froze.
“Mr. Calloway instructed accounting to classify you as family.”
One of Ethan's friends looked away to hide a smile.
Peter continued.
“The apartment you and Lily live in?”
Lily's eyes widened.
“No.”
Peter nodded.
“Owned by a Calloway trust.”
Ethan stood.
“That apartment is mine.”
“Check your lease.”
“I don't have a lease.”
“Exactly.”
That landed hard.
Ethan grabbed his phone.
Peter turned toward Lily.
“Your father didn't want you to know the extent of his assets.”
“Why?”
“Ask him.”
She was already moving.
But Ethan caught her wrist.
“Sit down.”
Lily looked at his hand.
Then at him.
“Let go.”
“We're not chasing after him like he's some king.”
“No,” Peter said.
Everyone turned.
“He never wanted anyone treating him like one.”
Peter looked directly at Ethan.
“That is precisely why most people here never knew who he was.”
Ethan released Lily.
His face had gone pale.
Then Peter delivered the sentence that destroyed what remained of the celebration.
“I didn't come upstairs because of the dinner.”
“What did you come for?” Lily asked.
Peter took a breath.
“We need the owner.”
“Why?”
“Someone submitted documents this afternoon authorizing a transfer involving Calloway House.”
Ethan's expression changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Lily saw it.
So did Peter.
“What transfer?” Lily asked.
Peter looked directly at Ethan.
“A transfer carrying your husband's signature.”
Lily turned toward him.
“Ethan?”
He said nothing.
May you like
And suddenly the old key wasn't the most dangerous thing sitting on that table.
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