Chapter 8 - The Cornered Rat

My breath hitched in my throat. Panic surged through my veins like ice water.
I pressed my back against the wall of the walk-in closet, hiding deep behind the rows of heavy winter coats. Through the narrow crack in the closet door, I could see the light in the master bedroom flick on.
Grant stumbled into the room, throwing his coat onto the bed. His face was flushed red, his tie loosened, and his eyes bloodshot. Behind him walked Vanessa, wearing a expensive silk dress, looking furious and frantic.
“Grant, the bank in the Cayman Islands just rejected our transfer request!” Vanessa shouted, pacing back and forth. “They said there’s an international hold on your primary corporate account! The news is saying you’re under federal investigation for tax evasion!”
“Shut up, Vanessa!” Grant bellowed, kicking a chair out of his way. “It’s a temporary administrative hold! My tax attorneys are handling it! As soon as I get that thumb drive out of the safe, I’ll have all the hidden account routing numbers. We take the private jet to North Carolina tonight, transfer the funds from there, and let Sarah try to serve me with papers when I’m holding thirty million in cash!”
I squeezed my eyes shut, holding the black thumb drive tightly inside my coat pocket. He was going to open the safe in ten seconds. When he saw it was empty, he would realize someone was in the apartment.
I looked around the dark closet frantically. Beside me was a small service access panel built into the wall—a maintenance hatch that led to the building’s utility piping shaft, used by plumbers.
Without making a sound, I reached down, unlatched the plastic panel cover, and crawled inside the cramped, dusty space just as Grant pulled open the walk-in closet door.
Through the ventilation slit, I watched Grant step up to the safe.
“What the hell...?” Grant’s voice dropped into a terrifying murmur.
He stared at the open safe door. His hands reached inside frantically, tossing aside the stacks of cash and luxury watches.
“It’s gone,” he whispered, his voice rising in sheer panic. “IT’S GONE!”
“What’s gone?!” Vanessa yelled from the bedroom.
“THE DRIVE! THE HARD LEDGERS! SOMEONE WAS IN HERE!” Grant screamed, turning around wildly. He caught sight of the open service hatch at the back of the closet.
“SARAH!” Grant roared, his voice echoing through the apartment like a wild animal. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN HERE! YOU BITCH!”
I didn't wait. I turned and began crawling as fast as I could through the dark, narrow utility pipe shaft, my hands and knees scraping against the cold metal pipes. Behind me, I could hear Grant forcing his body into the narrow hatch, his heavy boots banging against the walls as he chased me through the darkness.
“You’re not getting out of here with that drive!” Grant screamed from behind me, his voice right on my heels. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me!”
I reached the end of the maintenance shaft—a metal ladder leading down to the service floor. I pushed open the hatch door, burst out into the 13th-floor utility room, and sprinted into the hallway toward the fire exit stairs.
Grant burst through the utility door three seconds behind me, his eyes wild with rage. He lunged forward, his hand grabbing the sleeve of my coat just as I reached the heavy steel stairwell door.
“Got you!” he snarled, pulling me backward.
“Get off me!” I screamed, swinging my forearm with every ounce of strength I had left. My elbow struck him sharply across the bridge of his nose.
Grant grunted, stumbling backward and clutching his bloody face.
I slammed the fire exit door shut, threw the emergency locking bar into place, and flew down the thirteen flights of stairs into the basement parking garage.
Arthur was waiting near the exit, holding the garage door open.
“Go, Sarah! Go!” Arthur yelled.
I sprinted out into the cold night air, threw myself into Maya’s waiting sedan, and slammed the door.
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“DRIVE, MAYA! DRIVE!” I screamed.
Maya slammed her foot on the gas pedal. The tires screeched against the asphalt, throwing us forward into the New York street traffic just as Grant burst out of the building’s front doors, clutching his bloody nose, screaming into the empty night air.