Chapter 12 - Suite 412
At precisely 19:45, Victoria stood in the service elevator of The Savoy, wearing a tailored housekeeper's uniform she had acquired forty-five minutes earlier from the hotel's linen department. A covered room service tray sat on the rolling metallic cart in front of her, holding a bottle of vintage Pinot Noir, two crystal glasses, and a dome-covered plate of appetizers.
The elevator doors opened onto the quiet, carpeted corridor of the fourth floor.
Victoria pushed the cart smoothly down the hallway, stopping outside Suite 412. She reached up, tapping softly on the heavy dark mahogany door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Room service," Victoria announced, keeping her pitch neutral and polite.
The door unlocked almost immediately.
Arthur Vance stood in the doorway. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with the top buttons undone, dark trousers, and no shoes. He looked relaxed, unbothered, as if he were expecting an old friend rather than an operative hired to destroy him.
"Ah," Arthur said, stepping back to allow her to push the cart inside. "Just put it near the window, please."
Victoria pushed the cart into the spacious, opulent sitting room. The warm lighting of the crystal chandelier reflected off the dark blue walls and heavy velvet drapes—a deliberate recreation of the Vance Estate aesthetic.
She positioned the cart by the balcony doors, keeping her head low as she set the wine bottle on the table.
"Will there be anything else, Mr. Vance?" she asked in her accented British voice.
"You can drop the accent, Victoria," Arthur said smoothly, leaning against the edge of his mahogany desk, taking a slow sip from a crystal glass of ice water. "It's a good accent, but I’d prefer to speak to the woman who saved my daughter."
Victoria stood up straight, slowly removing the small white housekeeper cap from her head, letting her short chestnut hair tumble free. She turned around to face him, her eyes cold, sharp, and steady.
"You knew I was coming," Victoria said flatly.
"I paid for your flight," Arthur corrected her with a faint, amused smile. "The encrypted server you received that new contract from? It's hosted on a private node in my London office. I am 'The Architect', Victoria. I have always been 'The Architect'."
Victoria’s chest tightened, but she didn't show an ounce of fear. "You hired me to infiltrate your own life?"
"I needed a catalyst," Arthur explained, taking a step toward her. "Julian and my mother were leeching off the family assets for years. They were planning to kill me just as they killed Evelyn. I couldn't move against them directly without destroying the company stock. So, I created a scenario where an outside asset—you—would force their hands into making a loud, desperate mistake."
He gestured to the room around them. "And it worked perfectly. They are in prison. The assets are secured. And now, you and I are standing in a room together once again."
May you like
"And what makes you think I won't kill you right now?" Victoria asked, her hand sliding subtly toward the small silver blade hidden in her apron pocket.
Arthur smiled—a calm, chilling expression of absolute confidence. "Because if you kill me, you'll never find out what really happened to Evelyn's original ledgers. And more importantly... you'll never leave this hotel alive."
