After Divorce, I Ruled Their World

Keys and Alarms

Chapter 9: Keys and Alarms

Helena that was shocked and frozen stood for only a second. Then, her face changed into a look of pure, mean amusement. She threw her head back and laughed, very loud, cackling sound that was sounding against the polished walls.

“Oh, honey!” she gasped, wiping a fake tear from her eye as she looked at Ciara. “You poor, dumb little thing! He tricked you! Look at him!” She jabbed a thumb toward Julian, who was standing perfectly still, his face unreadable. “He’s a loser my daughter just kicked to the curb! He doesn’t have two pennies to rub together! He probably works here as a janitor and stole a master key to impress you!”

She shook her head, her laughter fading into a smug sneer. “He can’t afford a broom closet in this place, let alone this apartment.” She raised out her chest, smoothing her expensive silk blouse. “This penthouse,” she announced loudly to the hallway, “was bought by my new son-in-law, Lucas! For him and my Vivian! As their wedding home! He’s a real man, with real money and class. Not some… some stray dog pretending to be a wolf.”

Iris's mouth opened to argue. Her face burned. She knew what she had seen inside. She held the heavy, cold keys in her hand. She wanted to shout that this woman was wrong, that Julian was kind and good, that he had saved her! But before she could say a word, Julian gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

He looked down at her and gave a tiny, almost invisible shake of his head. His eyes said, ‘Don’t. It’s not worth it.’

Then, without a single word to Helena, he simply guided Iris into the waiting elevator. He pressed the button for the lobby. The golden doors began to slide shut, slowly cutting off the sight of Helena’s furious, triumphant face.

From the gap as the elevator was closing, Helena's sharp and ugly voice sounded there. “That’s right, run away!” she shrieked. “And you, you little brat! You got lucky this time! The next time I see you, I’ll tear your lying skin right off!”

Ding. The doors closed completely. The elevator was silent as it whooshed downward. Iris was trembling. “I’m… I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I made it worse. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You defended me,” Julian said quietly, staring straight ahead at the doors. “No one has done that in a long time. Thank you.”

Back in the hallway, Helena was breathing hard, her victory feeling a little sour. That girl’s confused face… and Julian’s calmness… it bothered her, like she didn't know why. 

“Well!” said Beatrice, linking her arm with Helena’s. “Good riddance to bad rubbish! Don’t let those two nobodies ruin our fun. We came to see a luxury apartment, remember?”

“That’s right,” Cynthia chimed in, adjusting her pearls. “Let’s go see what that wonderful Lucas has prepared for our Vivian!”

The words made Helena calm down a little. Yes. Lucas. Her real son-in-law. She pulled out the sleek, silver key card Lucas had given her with a flourish. “Oh, this old thing?” she said, pretending to be modest. “It’s really not that luxurious. Lucas tried to tell me it was too much, but you know how he is. I told him, ‘Lucas, darling, Vivian isn’t some gold-digger! She doesn’t need a palace, just a cozy little nest for the two of you!’”

She led her friends to the magnificent double doors of the penthouse. It was the very doors Julian and Iris had just stepped out of.

“But Lucas,” Helena continued, her voice dripping with false humility and real pride, “he insisted! He said, ‘Mother Helena, I want you to move in with us! I want to take care of you in your golden years!’ What could I say to such a good boy?”

“Oh, how sweet!” Beatrice and Cynthia cooed in unison, their eyes wide as they were envying the women. “So filial! So thoughtful!”

Helena beamed. She held up the silver key card. “He said it’s the latest technology. Just tap and go.” She waved the card grandly in front of the electronic reader next to the door.

Nothing happened.

The little light on the reader stayed red.

Helena’s smile didn’t falter. “These fancy things,” she chuckled. “Always a little fussy.” She tapped the card again. More firmly.

Beep. Beep. Red light.

A tiny bit of panic started to spread in her stomach. She tried swiping the card. She tried holding it at a different angle. She even blew on it, like it was a cassette she was dusting dust off of. 

Beep. Beep-beep. BEEEP!

The red light flashed angrily.

“That’s… odd,” Helena said, her laugh sounding tight. “Lucas assured me this was the right one. For the penthouse.”

“Maybe it’s this other reader?” Cynthia suggested, pointing to a smaller, more discreet panel to the side of the door.

“Yes, of course!” Helena said, grabbing the suggestion like a lifeline. She marched over and presented her key card to the new panel.

This time, the reaction was immediate and terrifying.

A deafening, earsplitting SCREECH erupted from a hidden speaker above the door. A blinding, rotating red light shined from the ceiling, making their horrified faces flashing red.

WOOOOP! WOOOOP! WOOOOP! INTRUSION ALERT! UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS ATTEMPT! WOOOOP!

Helena screamed and dropped the key card as if it had bitten her. Beatrice and Cynthia clutched each other, their fancy hats already squeezing because of the way they joined their heads together. 

“Turn it off! Make it stop!” Cynthia wailed.

But the siren just got louder. Doors down the hall began to open. People that were scared, rich people, came out. 

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. The heavy sound of running boots echoed from the stairwell.Within seconds, three massive security guards in dark uniforms ran around the corner. They looked like angry bears.

“FREEZE! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!” the lead guard boomed, his voice loud even through the siren. He had a thick baton in his hand.

Beatrice and Cynthia, their faces white as sheets, tried to back away, to melt into the wall or something. “We… we were just leaving…” Beatrice stammered.

“NOBODY MOVE!” another guard yelled. He pointed his baton right at them. “On the ground! All of you! NOW! HANDS ON YOUR HEADS!”

“This is a misunderstanding!” Helena shrieked, finding her voice. She drew herself up, trying to look dignified even as the red alarm light flashed on her terrified face. “I am Helena Holt! My son-in-law, Lucas Reed, owns this apartment! He gave me this key!”

The lead guard wasn’t impressed. He picked up the fallen key card with a gloved hand. He looked at it, then at a small device on his wrist. “This is a standard guest key for Suite 1202,” he said flatly. “It has zero clearance for the penthouse level. You just tried to breach a secured, privately-owned residence. That’s a felony.” He glared at her. “Now, I won’t ask again. ON. THE. GROUND.”

The way he had shouted it made something inside her to break. All her pride, all her boasting, vanished. With a whimper, Helena Holt, social queen of her circle, slowly sank to her knees on the expensive hallway carpet. Beatrice and Cynthia, sobbing quietly, did the same beside her. They put their trembling hands that were filled with jewellery or their perfectly styled heads.