Chapter 362 - 362: The Penthouse Breach

Connor straightened his carbon-silk cuffs while he guided Ophelia through the gilded glass doors of the Raven Art Gallery. Crystal chandeliers cast a bright glow over the gathered corporate executives mingling around abstract marble sculptures.

Ophelia adjusted her designer evening gown, gripping a small beaded clutch that concealed the custom mechanical lockpicks Evan and Ilyas had fashioned back at the safehouse.

"My parents attend these auctions frequently, so the security scanners recognized my family crest instantly to grant us access," Connor whispered, keeping his eyes fixed on a polished display pillar. He adjusted his coat and guided her toward the sculpture gallery.

Ophelia nodded, her fingers tracing the smooth edge of her clutch. "We just need to reach the rear service elevator before the main exhibition begins."

Suddenly, a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes passed between them and a pair of armed guards stationed near the lobby check. Connor used the momentary visual cover to guide Ophelia behind a towering canvas painting. They slipped quickly into a darkened maintenance alcove located just beyond the gallery floor.

Meanwhile, Leo knelt in the dim access tunnels ten floors beneath the exhibition. He held a pair of insulated wire cutters, watching the green digital clock on his datapad tick downward. Lucy crouched beside him, her hands hovering over the manual breaker box.

"Connor and Ophelia should be approaching the secondary access route," Leo noted, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He kept his focus locked on the countdown timer.

Lucy checked her own mechanical watch, adjusting her grip on the steel panel. "Ilyas confirmed the security rotation on the upper floors, meaning we have a two-minute window to kill the secondary stairwell cameras."

Fortunately, the analog blueprints they had printed earlier proved accurate. Leo clamped his cutters around the main blue cable supplying power to the upper surveillance grid. He squeezed the handles, severing the copper wiring with a loud snap.

Back on the gallery level, the red indicator light above the service stairwell door blinked and went dark. Connor pushed the sturdy steel door open, gesturing for Ophelia to enter the silent concrete shaft.

"The cameras are blind, giving us a clear path to the penthouse," Connor murmured, glancing up the dimly lit stairwell. He secured the door latch behind them.

Ophelia pulled the custom lockpicks from her clutch, her posture rigid as they began their ascent. "Let us climb."

Connor and Ophelia reached the reinforced steel door at the top of the stairwell, their breath catching after climbing ten flights in the dark. Ophelia retrieved the slender metal pick from her beaded clutch, inserting the tool into the keyhole of the service entrance.

The brass pins inside the mechanical lock clicked in sequence under her careful touch. She turned the door handle quietly, easing the panel open to reveal a dimly lit corridor lined with polished wood.

They stepped across the doorway, expecting the lavish decorations of a High District residence. However, the spacious interior resembled a clinical observation ward, filled with un-networked monitors and physical medical charts stacked on metal carts.

Unpowered cables dangled from grey wall brackets while mechanical heart monitors stood silent in the alcoves. Ophelia ran her fingers along a row of paper diagnostic sheets, noting how every document bore the seal of Aether-Conglomerate.

An elderly woman sat in a physical wheelchair near the floor-to-ceiling glass window of the study. Her silver hair was neatly pinned, her hands resting motionless over a knitted blanket as she stared out at the artificial stars glowing on the ceiling above.

Connor stepped forward onto the rug, making sure his boots moved without a sound. "We are not here to harm you," he whispered, keeping his hands visible near his sides.

The woman turned her head slowly toward the sound, her dark eyes focusing on his face. She did not call for the terrace guards, nor did she flinch as Ophelia closed the door behind them.

Connor reached into his inner jacket pocket to pull out the brittle, yellowed 2024 photograph retrieved from the lower district. He unfolded the paper carefully, holding the image in front of her view.

The woman leaned closer to the photograph in Connor's hands, her breathing shifting as she studied the faded faces of the missing students. Her frail fingers brushed against the aged paper, tracing the profile of Redmond Vane with a slight tremor.

"You carry this picture," she murmured, her voice raspy from disuse. Her eyes remained locked on the image while she drew a quiet breath.

Connor knelt beside her wheelchair, maintaining a quiet posture on the polished hardwood floor. "Your family's trust fund has been routing monthly payments to the other twenty-eight families for fifty years," he noted, keeping his eyes on her expression.

The woman let out a dry sigh, her gaze remaining fixed on the photograph. "My father set up those automated transfers before he walked into that venue. He knew what those executives were planning, so he locked the capital in an off-grid trust to ensure their relatives were cared for if anything went wrong."

Ophelia stepped closer to the wheelchair, observing the un-networked medical devices around the desk. "The conglomerate kept you in this flat to monitor the financial trail," Ophelia said, pointing toward the physical charts.

The woman nodded, her shoulders slumping as decades of isolation weighed upon her. "They checked my vitals every morning to ensure I never tried to access those master accounts or search for my father," she whispered, looking up at Connor with a solemn stare.

Connor adjusted his grip on the photograph, sensing the vast network of corporate control that had trapped her inside this penthouse. "Your father knew the true nature of Project Civilization before the server ever went live," he observed, watching her reaction closely.

"Not my father, but my grandparents," the woman responded.

"Uhm… I am sorry but, who is your father and your grandparents? And what is your name?" Ophelia asked with a curious look on her face.

"Vane. Reveal Vane."