Chapter 2 - THE SAPPHIRE AND THE SCREEN
A crystal champagne flute clinked against the rim of a silver tray.
The grand living room smelled of roasted pine needles, expensive cologne, and melting wax.
A massive Christmas tree dominated the far corner, draped in a thousand blinking golden fairy lights.
The ambient chatter of a dozen wealthy guests hummed like a well-oiled engine.
The woman stood near the edge of the Persian rug, her posture rigidly straight.
Her dark navy blazer absorbed the warm light of the room.
Pinned to her left lapel was a heavy silver brooch, clutching a massive, unblinking sapphire.
The blue stone rested directly over her heartbeat.
Her hair was a sharp, striking red, pulled back into a severe, flawless bun.
Not a single strand dared to fall out of place.
She held a half-empty glass of sparkling water, the condensation dripping slowly onto her manicured thumb.
A man in a sharp black tuxedo stood five feet away.
His back was turned to her.
He casually raised his right hand, a thin black remote resting loosely in his palm.
His thumb pressed down on the rubber button.
A soft click echoed beneath the jazz music playing from the ceiling speakers.
The massive flat-screen television on the marble accent wall flickered.
The looping video of a crackling fireplace vanished.
The screen split into a grid of four stark, black-and-white security feeds.
Three of the feeds showed empty, luxurious hallways.
The fourth feed was tinted in a cold, grainy night-vision green.
It showed a small boy huddled in a metal box, holding a bear with a bright white light on its head.
The woman’s hand spasmed.
The crystal glass slipped through her wet fingers.
It shattered against the polished hardwood floor, sending water and glass shards exploding over the toes of her designer heels.
She didn't look down at the mess.
Her pupils dilated so rapidly the green iris almost disappeared entirely.
Her breath hitched, trapping a sharp gasp at the top of her throat.
The sapphire on her chest rose and fell in a sudden, violent rhythm.
She dropped her evening clutch.
The leather purse hit the floor with a dull thud.
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She turned her body, her silk-lined blazer whipping through the air.
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