Page 35

Alexander

The Blackwood Box overlooked the opera house from the northwest gallery. During the restoration, I had furnished it simply. There were four chairs, a reading lamp, and an unobstructed view of the auditorium below.

I arrived before the film began. From the gallery, the audience rarely looked up. I could remain relatively unnoticed. Emilia arrived with Charlotte. I knew this was the type of event that would make Emilia feel right at home. I watched her take her seat. She had accepted a blanket from Mateo and settled in.

She looked happy. She laughed. Again. Then again. Each time, I waited for the next.

When she had first arrived at Blackwood Hall, she moved with careful awareness, almost uncertain whether she belonged. That uncertainty was gone now. She greeted people by name, she walked the halls with recognition, and life seemed to take on a familiar rhythm for her.

It should have been enough to watch her belong. I told myself the distance was a kindness. A woman finally at ease in a room did not need the Chairman stepping into it and turning her evening into something to manage.

That was how I had ended up standing in the dark above them. For years, I believed I was only restoring an opera house. Lately, it had begun to feel like something else entirely.

Intermission began and her gaze found the box. For a moment, I wondered if she could see me clearly. One day, I would invite her to watch a show with me from here. When act two began, I switched off the reading lamp and left quietly.

* * *

My home office was dark except for the city beyond the windows. The quarterly security summary waited where I had left it on the desk. I was just about to reach for the folder when a measured knock sounded at the front door. At that hour, I expected no one. I opened it and found Marcus standing there, a folder in his hand.

“Come in.”

“I apologize for interrupting.”

He never apologized unless it mattered. “What happened?”

“There has been a security incident involving Project Aurora.” He paused. “Dr. Rossi received an email that appeared to come from a legitimate research organization. It requested unpublished information about one of Aurora’s methods. She recognized the problem immediately and contacted security.”

My hand was already reaching for my jacket before I understood what I had intended to do. To go to her myself. At nearly midnight. Not only because the thought of her frightened was intolerable. Because I wanted, quite simply, to be the one at her door. I stopped. She would notice. Not tonight. Not yet.

“Go to her, Marcus,” I said.

“I already spoke to her by telephone, sir. She forwarded the email immediately and did not respond to it. I told her it would be handled and that she should rest.”

“And?”

“And she is a scientist at this hour with something to think about. She is almost certainly awake. A visit at this hour would only unsettle her more. It might suggest there is more to be concerned about than we know.”

He was right. I rested my arm back at my side. It was the correct decision, even if it felt like the wrong one.

I nodded. “Anything else?”

“There is.” He placed the folder on the counter and opened it. “The sending account was spoofed, but the forensic trail led somewhere unexpected.”

He slid a single page toward me. “I think you should see this.”

At the bottom of the page was a single name.

Victoria Caldwell.

I did not move. “Where did it originate?” I asked.

“We’re still tracing it.”

“Work faster.”

“Yes, sir.” Marcus collected the remaining paper but left that single page where it was.

He paused before he left. “Dr. Rossi is going to be all right.”