Claire was beginning to lose her mind from the endless hours spent cooped up in her penthouse. The once luxurious space was now starting to feel more like a gilded cage, and she was itching to do something—anything—to break the monotony.
She tried yoga, hoping that some deep stretches and calming breaths would help clear her head, but after a few minutes, she gave up. The yoga mat felt more like a place to nap than a path to inner peace, and her brain was practically screaming for stimulation.
“Alright, that’s it,” Claire muttered to herself as she rolled up the mat. “I need to do something before I go completely nuts.”
With nothing else coming to mind, Claire found herself scrolling through YouTube, and that’s when she stumbled upon a baking tutorial. “Baking can’t be that hard, right?” she thought, watching a cheerful baker whip up a batch of gooey brownies.
Famous last words.
Claire followed the recipe step by step, mixing the ingredients with precision. But when it came time to bake the brownies, something went horribly wrong. The sweet aroma she had been expecting was quickly replaced by the sharp smell of something burning. She yanked open the oven door, only to be greeted by a tray of charred, blackened squares that could only be described as culinary disasters.
“Well, at least I know I’m not a baker,” she said with a shrug, tossing the ruined brownies into the trash.
Defeated but not quite ready to give up on finding something productive to do, Claire sat down with her laptop. She stared at the screen, trying to figure out what work she could possibly tackle from home. Unfortunately, all the important documents and files she needed were safely stored at Metacortex, and she had a sneaking suspicion that Matthew was already handling her tasks in her absence.
But as she clicked aimlessly through her emails, her mind drifted back to the events of last night. The memory of what happened gnawed at her. How had someone managed to poison her drink right under her nose? And how had she been so unaware? The more she thought about it, the more questions popped into her head. Was the hotel staff involved? Had someone tampered with the drinks?
Claire frowned, her curiosity piqued. She needed answers. But she couldn’t just waltz into the Harris Hotel and demand to see their security footage. Alexander would find out, and she didn’t want him involved—not to mention the barrage of questions he’d ask her if he found out.
Determined, Claire sat up straighter, her mind racing with ideas. If she couldn’t physically go to the hotel, she’d just have to get creative. A plan started to form, and within minutes, she was typing furiously on her keyboard.
“Hacking into the hotel’s security system from here won’t be easy,” she muttered to herself. “But it’s not impossible.”
Claire navigated to the Harris Hotel website, her fingers flying over the keys as she worked her way through their digital defenses. It was a hassle, sure, but nothing she couldn’t handle. A few minutes later, she was in.
“Too easy,” she smirked, marveling at how outdated the hotel’s security software was. “They really should invest in better cybersecurity.”
Now that she had access, Claire quickly located the footage from the previous night and began scanning through it. She fast-forwarded through every angle in the ballroom, her eyes glued to the screen. At first, everything seemed normal—she watched herself giving the presentation with Alex, looking perfectly composed. But then she saw herself heading off to find Matthew, and that’s when things got strange.
Claire leaned in closer, her brow furrowing as she watched herself on the screen. She saw herself grab a glass of champagne, then she fast-forwarded again, watching the moment she started talking to Adrian. That’s when she noticed it—her behavior was off. She was starting to sway slightly, her movements less controlled.
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