“I hadn’t heard.”

“Henri did not say anything to you?” She snatched up a towel. “He has always been so much a better person than I am.”

Olivia refrained from agreeing.

“Lucien raised us both on the Marchand tradition, but it seems Henri was smarter than me.”

Olivia sidestepped. “I’m happy the campaign is doing so well, but I know this must be a challenging time for you.”

“I am an ambitious woman, something you understand.” She dried her hands on the towel as if she were scrubbing them. “The press release goes out tomorrow. Lucien Marchand is retiring in September, and Henri is taking over as president and CEO while I continue my role as chief financial officer.”

“I see.”

“My career is everything to me. You understand. You’re just like me. Our careers are our lives. Women with husbands and children”—she spoke the words as if they were frivolities—“allow themselves to be distracted from their goals, but not us. We do not lose sight of what we want.”

Olivia didn’t like being put in the same category as Mariel. “You’re a bright woman, Mariel. I’m sure you’ll adapt.”

“I don’t want to adapt!” She balled her towel and threw it in the trash. “I want to lead!” The door closed behind her.

Successful people had to be able to adapt, Olivia thought. Throughout her career, she’d learned to be flexible—to new directors, different staging, a variety of teachers. She was good at adapting, something she hadn’t thought much about until this very moment.

She finished in the restroom and stepped into the empty hallway. Music from the video played in the background, and the lights seemed dimmer than when she’d entered.

As she turned into the corridor leading back to the Grand Foyer, she wished she didn’t have to return to the table. If only she could go home now. If only—

Something seized her from behind. Before she could scream, a rough hand clamped over her mouth.

20

It happened so quickly. An arm dragged her from behind around one corner and another into a deserted corridor that led to the building’s maintenance area and from there into a storage closet. He was big and strong, and his hand across her mouth muffled her screams. The closet door slammed shut, closing them both inside with the scent of chemical fumes and rubber.

Her gown hobbled her legs as she attempted to kick out. He pinned her face-forward to the wall with his body, her neck pulled back at an awkward angle as he kept his hand clasped over her mouth.

His knee jabbed into her back to hold her in place, turned away from him. The sound of his breathing rasped in her ears. He grabbed for her fingers. Pulled at her rings. She struggled to breathe as she heard them hit the floor. The poison ring fit more tightly and wouldn’t come off. He moved to her Egyptian cuff, scraping her wrist as he yanked it free. He reached for a necklace, but she wasn’t wearing one.

Her pierced earrings would be next. Knowing that he would rip them through her earlobes sent a fresh flood of adrenaline surging through her. She stabbed him as hard as she could with the point of her elbow. With a grunt, he edged back just enough so she could twist around.

She stared into the face of Tutankhamen.

He was hiding behind a mask. The cowardice of his anonymity, the threat to her earlobes . . . It was all too much. With her free arm, she clawed at his face. Her dress ripped as she kicked him. She fought—fingernails, arms, legs, and feet. Her shoulder hit something sharp, and light flooded the closet.

She’d triggered the overhead light switch. She tore at his paper mask.

The elastic band snapped.

Kathryn’s son Norman stared back at her.

“That was a mistake.” He slammed her against the wall again. Something hard pressed into her ribs. It could have been a finger, but she knew it wasn’t. He had a gun. He twisted her arm behind her back. Her shoulder screamed with pain, and her cheek smashed into the closet’s cement-block surface. Out of the corner of her eye, next to her face, she saw the gun—black with a short barrel. Ugly. Awful.

“You scream and I shoot.” His voice was a hiss, his breath hot in her ear. “Now I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Because she’d seen his face.

His forearm snaked across her neck and pressed against her windpipe. She clawed at his arm, trying to free herself. He dug the gun into her temple and maneuvered her out of the closet into the dark hallway. She heard faint music from the video that was still playing in the Grand Foyer. Only a few minutes had elapsed since he’d attacked her. A lifetime.

His arm pressed harder against her throat. She made herself deadweight as he dragged her toward the service door at the end of the corridor. If he was going to kill her, she’d make him work for it.

He kicked her hard in the side of her leg. “Walk!”

Thad was going to be furious about this. That random thought kicked through her brain as she struggled to breathe.

They’d reached the door. He hit the bar with his hip. As he dragged her outside, she tried to gulp in the fresh, rain-drenched air.

Through the downpour, she saw that he’d dragged her to the Muni’s loading dock area on the far side of the building, away from the front windows where the guests were gathered. Away from everything except Dumpsters, cargo vans, and the dark coil of the Chicago River.

“A lot of thugs around here.” He dug the gun into her temple, his arm still pressing against her windpipe. “You came out for air. Too bad you got robbed and shot.”

He was going to kill her. No one would stop him. She dropped her head and bit him hard in the arm. He jerked and eased his grip just enough for her to twist free.

She began to run.

Something whizzed past her head. A bullet. The river was just ahead.

He fired again. And again.

She was in the water.

* * *

Olivia had been gone too long. As the video played, he pushed back in his chair and wended his way through the tables out into the hallway. No sign of anyone. He headed for the ladies’ room and barged in without knocking. Empty. He checked his watch. It read 9:48 p.m. He hurried down a second hallway. Around a corner.

Her purse lay abandoned ahead of him on the tile floor. His heart kicked into overdrive. There was a service door at the end of the hall. He ran toward it on an adrenaline rush.