CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
ELENA

Alexander came to stand in front of me when he gazed at the devastation before us. The penthouse where we thought we would find safety, only hours before, now resembled the set of a war movie.

"Stay back," he ordered, pulling out his phone. "Security, code Alpha. There's an issue at the penthouse."

He walked cautiously through the shattered pieces, ensuring my safety while moving deeper into the living room. The furniture has been rearranged, there were ripped cushions, and the books have been removed from the shelves. Even the favorite artwork of Alexander had been harmed, with their frames hanging askew against the walls.

"How is this possible?" I whispered. The ideal night we had had now seemed like something out of a dream.

Within minutes, the elevator chimed, and three suit-clad security men arrived with guns out. The suddenness of their presence took me aback, but Alexander remained unflustered and started issuing commands.

"Check everything. Search every room. View all the videos from the cameras for the past six hours."

One of the guards nodded and inserted the earpiece into his ear. The others began to search the rooms thoroughly. I glanced at the face of Alexander and saw his businessperson side assume the place of the kind man who had twirled with me under the stars.

Yet, when he gazed at me, his eyes betrayed his emotions. His eyes were wide with fear, intent on me and not on the disturbed surroundings.

"You okay?" he rasped, cupping my face with his hands and studying my face so intensely as though standing there alone is meant to hurt me in any way.

"I'm fine," I said to him, although my heart was pounding.
"I'm just surprised."

"I need to see what's missing," he said, heading to his office.

I followed him as I navigated cautiously through the chaotic environment. Alexander headed straight to a painting on the wall and shifted it to reveal the safe hidden behind it. He opened it and breathed a sigh of relief when he confirmed that what was inside was still intact.

"At least they didn't get this," he spoke quietly.

I left him and headed towards my studio, anxiously getting closer to the door. I opened it and was horrified. My art materials were scattered, canvases were displaced, and drawers were open. But strangely, none of my paintings were damaged.

"They were looking for something," I told Alexander when he approached me. "It was not just idle destruction."

"Sir," the security guard hollered from the living room. "You ought to see this."

Both of us huddled to examine the security screens pulled down or pulled up from wherever. The blurry footage indicated the empty penthouse. The monitors blacked out at 7:42 PM precisely.

The guard said, "They shut down the system for precisely twenty minutes. They did it quite well.'

"Can you see who has done it?"

The guard shook his head. "They had figured out how to remain out of the cameras' view when they got there. This wasn't random. They had planned it."

I watched Alexander's face harden as the reality of our situation sank in. Someone had violated our home while we were celebrating our future. The irony wasn't lost on me.

"They would have hurt you if we were around," he said to me, speaking softly while he drew me towards him.

"But we weren't," I reminded him, speaking quietly so he wouldn't get angry. "And there's nothing important missing."

"That's what scares me." He raked his fingers through his hair, messing it up. "If they weren't searching for valuables..."

"Then they wanted information," I completed it for him.

I'd never witnessed Alexander this afraid before. I mean, I have seen him concerned and worried before. But the fright in his eyes now was obvious – it made my fear intensify accordingly.

"We have to improve security," he remarked, then went back to using his phone once more. "Complete detail, 24/7. Guards on this floor around the clock."

"Alexander," I gently touched his arm. "We will be okay."

He looked at me intensely that I took a step back reflexively.
"I'm not going to let you get hurt, Elena. Not ever."

The head of security walked over, his face solemn. "Mr. Moretti, may I have a word?"

They left, but I caught phrases from their hushed conversation:
‘...message left.’
‘...targeted.’
‘...professional job.’

His face had paled, and he looked so worried when he returned. He had a bright, shiny picture clutched tightly in his hand.

"They left it for us to find," he stated, his voice hollow as he raised the photo.

I was frightened. There, it showed myself approaching my former apartment building – only a matter of days earlier, before I'd encountered Alexander at the art gallery.

"How is this possible?" I asked, clutching the photo with trembling hands. "Who was following me at that moment?"

Alexander's face turned solemn. "Someone who knew you personally even before we met each other."

I gazed at the picture of me smiling while walking into my building, unaware that I was being photographed. Then, I was unaware of the Crossroads Society, of Margaret, or of the perils lying in wait for me with time.

"They've been following me the entire time," I stated, shocked. "But why me? Why are they watching me? What is it they want from me? In fact, who are they? Could it be the Crossroads society?"

Alexander took the photo back and examined it closely, his brow furrowed.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."
He clenched the photo in his fist. "And when I do, they will be sorry they ever got near you."

The chief of security returned. "Sir, we've uncovered something else. At Ms. Rossi's studio."

"What is that?" Alexander said.

The man hesitated and then brought out something small. It was a paintbrush – the same kind we had discovered in Margaret's studio.

The head of security reported, "It was placed carefully on Ms. Rossi's easel. And it has fresh paint on it."