Chapter 4: Locked in the Dark and the Rescue from Above
Just as despair threatened to paralyze my limbs, a sharp, metallic clanging echoed from the ventilation shaft near the ceiling. I froze, shining my flashlight upward. The metal grate of the exhaust vent rattled violently, and a pair of mud-caked hiking boots dropped onto the concrete floor with a heavy thud, followed immediately by a tall, broad-shouldered figure in a utility jacket. It was Noah Vance—the hotel’s chief structural engineer and my mother’s most loyal ally during the bitter boardroom battles of the past decade. Noah had been fired by Preston six months ago under trumped-up safety violations, but he had continued monitoring the hotel's foundational integrity from his independent consultancy office across the bay. "Maren! Thank God you're in here," Noah panted, pulling a heavy pneumatic crowbar from his tool bag and jamming it into the door’s manual override hydraulic port. With a mighty roar, he threw his entire body weight against the lever. The locking bolts groaned, sparks flew in a blinding shower of white-hot light, and with a thunderous pop, the heavy steel door swung wide open. Gasping for fresh air, I collapsed against Noah’s arm, clutching the cracked leather ledger. "Preston locked me in," I breathed. Noah’s eyes flashed with righteous fury. "I know," he said grimly, holding up his tablet. "And you won't believe what I just intercepted on the hotel’s master security network. Preston and Camille aren't just stealing the hotel—they’re liquidating the entire property tonight to a foreign shell company, and the final wire transfer clears at midnight."
