Chapter 3 - The Red Light
High above the Seattle skyline, the Lumière Penthouse was a monument to excessive luxury. Julian poured another glass of champagne, watching the rain lash against the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"She looked so pathetic," Chloe giggled, twirling the vintage emerald pendant around her finger. She was sprawled across the massive Italian leather sofa, her bare legs draped over the armrest. "Do you think she’ll sue?"
Julian scoffed, loosening his silk tie. "Let her try. She has no money of her own, babe. I made sure her name isn't on a single proprietary document. She was just a glorified interior decorator. I built this empire with my own bare hands."
He walked over and kissed her, feeling the rush of absolute victory. He had the girl, he had the resort, and he had finally shed the dead weight of his nagging, overly cautious wife.
"I'm hungry," Chloe pouted playfully. "Order the Beluga caviar from the midnight menu. And some of those truffles."
"Anything for you," Julian smiled. He walked over to the digital concierge panel mounted on the wall. He tapped the screen to summon the 24-hour butler service.
The screen flickered. A loading wheel spun for three seconds.
Then, a red error message popped up: ACCESS DENIED. ACCOUNT SUSPENDED.
Julian frowned, tapping the screen harder. "Stupid tech. Remind me to fire the IT director tomorrow. The network is glitching."
He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed the front desk directly. He listened as it rang. And rang. And rang.
"Pick up, you idiots," he muttered. Finally, a voice answered, but it wasn't the usual cheerful greeting of the night manager. It was an automated corporate voice.
“We are sorry. The mobile network for Lumière Management has been permanently disconnected. Please contact your network administrator.”
A cold prickle of unease started at the base of Julian’s neck. He looked at his phone. No service. Not just the WiFi, but his actual cellular plan—which was a corporate account—had been blacked out.
"Julian? The AC just kicked into overdrive," Chloe complained, rubbing her arms as a sudden blast of freezing air pumped into the room from the hidden vents.
Julian marched over to the climate control panel. Dead. The screen was completely black. He tried the lighting controls. Dead.
"What the hell is going on?" he snapped. He reached into his wallet and pulled out his black AMEX card. "I'll just call down from the private elevator phone."
He walked to the brushed steel doors of the private penthouse elevator. He swiped his gold-trimmed master keycard against the reader.
Normally, it chimed with a pleasant green light.
Instead, a harsh, angry BEEP echoed through the silent penthouse.
The light flashed solid crimson.
Julian swiped it again. Faster. Harder.
Red. Red. Red.
"Julian, you're scaring me," Chloe said, sitting up, the cashmere coat pulled tightly around her. "Why won't the doors open?"
"I don't know!" he shouted, his pristine facade cracking for the first time. He pressed his ear against the heavy oak door that led to the emergency stairwell. He heard something that made his blood run cold.
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The heavy, metallic THUNK of the electronic deadbolts sliding into place from the outside.
He wasn't just locked out of the system. He was locked in.
