Chapter 1

The charity gala buzzed with noise, too much noise for Mike Collins.

He stood near a pillar, nursing a glass of club soda.

His suit felt tight, not because it was, but because he wasn't supposed to be here.

"Corporate security consultant," his name tag read, a lie he lived every day.

Head of personal security for Eleanor Vance, one of the most powerful, reclusive tech CEOs in the world, that was the truth.

A truth hidden even from his wife, Jessica.

Ms. Vance's organization saw his marriage as a good thing, a sign of stability.

Lately, stability felt like a cage.

Jessica was across the room, a bright smile plastered on her face as she talked to a group near the bar.

She'd insisted they come, "It's for charity, Mike, and my old high school friends will be there, it's good for networking."

Networking for what, he never understood.

Her eyes kept flicking towards the entrance, and Mike knew who she was waiting for.

He drove an old Ford Fusion, reliable, unassuming, perfect for his real job.

Jessica hated it.

She wanted flash, status, things he couldn't openly provide.

Their apartment was nice, comfortable, paid for by a salary that was far above "corporate security consultant" level, but its source was a secret.

The secrecy, the "boring" job, the lack of visible wealth, it was all grinding her down.

He saw it in her eyes every time she looked at him lately, a mix of disappointment and impatience.

A sudden commotion near the entrance made heads turn.

Chad Miller, former high school quarterback, current owner of several luxury car dealerships, made his grand arrival.

He was loud, dressed in a suit that cost more than Mike's monthly mortgage, and surrounded by a fawning entourage.

Mike remembered Chad from high school, a bully then, a bigger bully now with more money.

There was also that cheating scandal Mike had anonymously reported, costing Chad his football scholarship. Chad never knew who did it, but his resentment for anyone he perceived as lesser was a constant.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mike Collins," a voice sneered.

Mark, a former classmate Mike barely remembered, sidled up, a drink in his hand.

"Still saving the world one photocopier at a time, Collins?"

Another classmate, Jenny, giggled, "Oh Mark, be nice, I heard he travels a lot, very important stuff, right Mike?"

Her tone was anything but nice.

Mike just gave a small nod, "Something like that."

He glanced at his Ford Fusion parked three blocks away, a deliberate choice to avoid valet.

Chad had probably valet-parked his newest Italian sports car right at the entrance.

Jessica, seeing her old friends mock Mike, winced.

She quickly excused herself from her group and drifted towards Chad's circle, her laughter suddenly brighter, her posture more animated.

Mike watched her go, a familiar ache in his chest.

This was going to be a long night.