Chapter 6 6

Annemarie burst into the stairwell at the end of the corridor, slamming the heavy fire door shut behind her. She leaned against the cold metal, gasping for air. Clementine squirmed in her arms, unhappy with the rough treatment.

"Mommy, put me down!" she whined.

Annemarie set her down on the concrete steps, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold onto her phone. She had seen it. She had seen the exact moment recognition flickered in Carlisle's eyes. He might not have put the pieces together yet, but the seed had been planted. She had to get out of this building. She had to get out of New York.

Her phone buzzed in her hand. She looked down at the screen.

It was a text from an unknown number. "I saw you rushing out of the lobby. I pulled your contact information from the firm's intake file. I am risking my job to do this, but I can help. Brenda Carter. Lounge at The Mercer, 8 PM. Come alone."

Annemarie frowned. Brenda Carter. She knew that name. Brenda was another lawyer at Bradford & Associates. She was young, hungry, and supposedly ruthless. But why would she reach out in secret?

Annemarie's first instinct was to ignore it. It felt like a trap. But then she looked at Clementine, who was trying to balance her red ball on the stair railing. Annemarie was out of options. Carlisle had made it clear that he was going to destroy her. She needed an ally, even a dubious one.

---

Eight hours later, Annemarie pushed open the heavy velvet curtains leading into The Mercer hotel's lounge. The room was dimly lit, bathed in the warm glow of amber Edison bulbs. A low murmur of conversation mixed with the clinking of crystal glasses. Jazz music floated softly from hidden speakers.

She scanned the room and spotted Brenda Carter sitting in a plush leather booth in the corner. Brenda looked exactly as she did in the office: sharp black blazer, sleek hair, and a calculating smile.

"Annemarie," Brenda greeted, standing up. "Thank you for coming."

Annemarie slid into the booth opposite her, keeping her coat wrapped tightly around her. "What do you want, Brenda?"

"To help," Brenda said smoothly. She signaled the waiter. "Two vodka sodas."

"I'm not drinking," Annemarie said flatly.

"It's just soda water with lime," Brenda lied, her smile never wavering. "Relax. I'm not the enemy."

"I saw you with Carlisle today," Annemarie said. "You work for him. Why would you help me?"

Brenda leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Because Carlisle Bradford is a bully. He takes what he wants and crushes anyone in his way. I know what he's doing to you. I know about the custody battle."

"Did Carlisle send you?" Annemarie asked, her eyes narrowing.

"God, no," Brenda scoffed. "He wants to string you up. I, on the other hand, believe in female solidarity." She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a thin stack of papers. "This is a motion to dismiss Eston's custody claim. It's based on a technicality in the filing date. It's a long shot, but it might buy you some time."

Annemarie took the papers, her eyes scanning the dense legal jargon. It looked legitimate. "Why are you doing this?"

"Let's just say I have my own reasons for wanting to see Carlisle fail," Brenda said, her eyes glittering. "Now, let's toast to new alliances."

The waiter arrived, setting two tall glasses of clear liquid on the table. Brenda picked hers up, raising it in the air.

Annemarie hesitated. She looked at the glass. It was just water and lime. She was being paranoid. She reached out and took a long, desperate sip. The liquid was crisp and slightly sweet, cutting through the dryness in her throat.

Brenda watched her drink, her smile widening. She didn't touch her own glass.

For a few minutes, they discussed the paperwork. Brenda pointed out the technicalities, her voice confident and reassuring. Annemarie began to relax. Maybe this was a stroke of luck.

Then, a wave of heat washed over her.

Annemarie blinked, her vision blurring slightly. She rubbed her eyes, blaming the dim lighting. The jazz music seemed to get louder, pounding in her ears.

"Are you okay?" Brenda asked, her voice sounding like it was coming from underwater. "You look flushed."

"I'm fine," Annemarie mumbled, her tongue feeling thick and heavy. "It's just hot in here."

She reached up to unbutton her coat, but her fingers wouldn't cooperate. They felt numb, tingling with a strange electricity. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead.

"What..." Annemarie started to say, but the word trailed off. She looked at Brenda. The lawyer's face was sharp, focused, entirely too clear.

Panic, cold and sharp, pierced through the fog in her brain. She looked down at the glass of water. The ice cubes were melting, swirling in the liquid.

"What did you do?" Annemarie gasped, pushing the glass away.

"What I had to," Brenda said softly, her expression devoid of pity. "Eston pays better than you ever could."

Annemarie tried to stand up, but her legs gave way beneath her. She collapsed back into the booth, her head lolling to the side. The room was spinning violently. She felt sick, her stomach churning with nausea.

"Help," she tried to shout, but her voice was a weak croak.

Brenda stood up, adjusting her blazer. She walked around the table and grabbed Annemarie's arm, pulling her up with surprising strength. "Come on, darling. You've had too much to drink. Let's get you to a room."

Annemarie tried to fight back, but her limbs were made of lead. Her thoughts were dissolving into chaos. She had to get away. She had to protect Clementine.

Brenda began to drag her toward the elevators, murmuring apologies to the other guests. Annemarie's feet dragged on the carpet. As they passed a server with a tray of drinks, Annemarie used the last of her strength to lash out. She kicked the tray, sending glasses shattering across the floor.

The noise was deafening. People turned to stare. Brenda's grip loosened for a split second.

That was all Annemarie needed. She wrenched her arm free and stumbled blindly toward the elevators. Her vision was just a blur of light and shadow. She slammed her hand against the elevator button, praying for a miracle.

The doors slid open. She fell inside, hitting every button on the panel. The doors closed just as Brenda reached her, trapping her inside the metal box alone.