Chapter 4 - The Archive
I sat in the secure conference room of Dominic's underground safehouse, staring at a stack of classified legal files.
The relief of knowing my mother's treatments were fully funded was completely overshadowed by the nightmare I was now trapped in.
"The document Marcus Vance showed me is just a localized copy of the treaty," Dominic explained, pacing across the room.
"The master ledger, the one containing the true translation key, is secured in the Manhattan Historical Archive," he continued.
I flipped through a dossier containing security blueprints for the archive building.
"This is a heavily fortified private collection, you cannot just walk in and ask to see postwar mafia contracts," I argued.
Dominic stopped pacing and smiled, a rare expression that made him look incredibly dangerous.
"I cannot walk in, but a brilliant doctoral candidate from Columbia University certainly can," he pointed out.
He tapped a photograph of a massive, heavily guarded vault located deep within the archive's basement.
"Tonight, they are hosting an exclusive charity gala for the city's academic elite," he told me.
"You are going to attend the gala, access the basement, and photograph the master ledger," he commanded.
I shook my head vigorously, pushing the files away from me across the polished mahogany table.
"I am a student, Dominic, I do not know how to bypass armed guards and laser security grids," I pleaded.
"You will not have to bypass them, you are going to use your academic charm to make the head archivist open the door for you," he replied.
He pressed a button on the wall, and the conference room doors swung open to reveal a team of stylists.
They wheeled in racks of stunning designer gowns, glittering diamond jewelry, and high-end cosmetics.
"We have exactly three hours to turn a brave waitress into an untouchable academic socialite," Dominic announced.
I submitted to the process, allowing them to transform me into someone entirely unrecognizable.
When I finally looked in the mirror, I saw a powerful, elegant woman wearing a breathtaking emerald silk gown.
Dominic walked up behind me, placing a delicate, diamond-studded earpiece into my right ear.
"I will be guiding you through this earpiece from a surveillance van across the street," he promised softly.
He handed me a sleek, silver clutch purse that contained a micro-camera disguised as a tube of lipstick.
"If you get caught, Marcus Vance's inside men will kill you before the police even arrive," he warned me.
I took a deep breath, the heavy weight of my mother's survival pressing down on my shoulders.
"Then I guess I cannot afford to get caught," I whispered, stepping confidently toward the exit.
We arrived at the glittering Manhattan Historical Archive just as the high-society guests began pouring inside.
I flashed my forged VIP academic credentials at the door and glided smoothly into the grand ballroom.
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I was perfectly disguised and ready to execute the plan, until I heard a familiar, aristocratic voice call out my name.
I turned around slowly and found myself standing face-to-face with Victoria Russo.
