The interior of The Gilded Cage was a sensory overload of velvet, crystal, and vice.
The air smelled of expensive cigars and desperation. The clatter of chips and the spin of roulette wheels created a constant, hypnotic hum.
Daniel and Elena walked in arm-in-arm.
They turned heads.
Daniel, in his tuxedo, looked like a cold, dangerous corporate shark.
Elena, in her backless gold dress, looked like the trophy wife of the century—if trophy wives had eyes that dissected every security camera in the room.
"Stay close," Daniel whispered, his hand firm on her waist. "The VIP section is to the right."
"I'm right here, darling," Elena purred, leaning into him.
Two cameras on the pillar. One in the chandelier. Biometric scanners at the VIP entrance.
She squeezed his arm. "You're tense. Relax. It's just a party."
"It's a shark tank," Daniel muttered.
They approached the VIP checkpoint. A bouncer the size of a vending machine blocked the velvet rope.
"Invitation?"
Daniel produced the black card Vix had forged.
The bouncer scanned it. He looked at Daniel. Then he looked at Elena.
His gaze lingered on the gold dress. A little too long.
Daniel shifted his stance. A subtle, predatory movement. He positioned himself between the bouncer and his wife.
"Is there a problem?" Daniel asked. His voice was low, but it carried a vibration that made the bouncer blink.
"No, sir. Enjoy the evening." The rope dropped.
They walked inside.
The VIP room was darker, quieter. The stakes here weren't chips; they were digital credits representing millions.
Daniel's Earpiece (Vix): Target identified. The Finance Guy is at the Baccarat table. Grey suit. Bald. You need to get within three feet to clone his phone.
Elena's Burner Phone (Vibration): Target identified. Finance Guy. Baccarat table. Server access is required to decrypt his ledger. Server room is behind the bar, North wall.
They both looked at the Baccarat table.
They both saw the bald man in the grey suit.
"I need a drink," Daniel said. "Do you want anything?"
He wanted to leave her at the bar, safe, while he approached the target.
"Champagne," Elena said. "I'll find us a table."
She wanted him to go to the bar so she could slip away to the server room.
It was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
"Elena?"
A voice called out from a private poker table nearby.
A man stood up. He was handsome in a greasy, oil-tycoon sort of way. He wore a white tuxedo jacket and held a glass of scotch.
Elena froze.
She recognized him.
Marco. An arms dealer she had... interacted with in Istanbul three years ago.
She had worn a mask then. But she hadn't worn a wig.
"I don't believe it," Marco grinned, walking over. "Elena? Is that you?"
Daniel stopped. He turned slowly.
"You know him?" Daniel asked Elena.
Elena's mind raced. Think. Think.
"I... I think he's a regular at the café," Elena lied smoothly. "He tips well."
Marco reached them. He ignored Daniel completely. He took Elena's hand—her good hand—and kissed it.
"The café? My dear, you are too modest. You look absolutely ravishing tonight. That dress is a crime against humanity."
Daniel stepped forward. He didn't shove Marco, but he invaded his personal space so aggressively that the air pressure seemed to change.
"She's married," Daniel said.
Marco laughed. "I can see that. But marriage is just a contract, isn't it? Contracts can be renegotiated."
He looked at Elena. "Come join my table. The luck is running hot. I'll stake you."
Elena saw the opportunity.
Marco's table was next to the service corridor. The corridor that led to the server room.
If she played along, she could slip away.
"That sounds fun," Elena said, flashing a dazzling smile at Marco.
Daniel whipped his head toward her. "Elena."
"Oh, hush, Daniel," she said playfully, tapping his chest. "Go get my champagne. I'm going to watch Marco play a hand. Don't be a bore."
She slipped her arm out of Daniel's grip.
She took Marco's arm.
Daniel stood there.
He watched his wife walk away with a greasy arms dealer.
He felt a rage so pure, so hot, that it almost blinded him.
He forgot about the mission. He forgot about the Finance Guy.
He wanted to snap Marco's neck.
Vix (Earpiece): Ghost! The target is moving. Focus!
"I am focused," Daniel growled, staring at Marco's hand on Elena's lower back.
Elena glanced back over her shoulder.
She saw Daniel's face. The jealousy.
Good, she thought. Stay angry. Stay distracted.
She whispered to Marco, "I need to powder my nose first. Order me a drink?"
"Anything for you, bella," Marco winked.
Elena slipped past him, heading toward the restrooms.
But she didn't turn left to the ladies' room.
She turned right. Into the dark service corridor.
She hiked up her gold dress, revealing the tactical pouch strapped to her thigh.
She pulled out a lockpick.
"Sorry, Daniel," she whispered to the empty hallway. "But Mama has to work."
BACK ON THE FLOOR
Daniel watched her disappear into the hallway.
He turned to the bar.
He saw the Finance Guy.
He saw Marco waiting for Elena.
He made a choice.
He walked up to the bar. He brushed past the Finance Guy.
Bump.
"Sorry," Daniel muttered.
CLONE COMPLETE.
Job done.
Now for the pleasure.
Daniel walked over to Marco's table.
Marco looked up. "Where's the drinks, husband?"
Daniel smiled. It was the smile of a shark about to breach.
"She's not coming back," Daniel said.
"Oh?" Marco smirked. "And why is that?"
Daniel picked up a crystal ashtray from the table. He weighed it in his hand.
"Because if you look at her again," Daniel whispered, leaning down, "I'm going to make sure you never see anything again."
Marco's smile vanished. He signaled his two bodyguards.
The bodyguards stepped forward.
Daniel didn't flinch.
Finally, he thought. Something to hit.