At the base of the landing, I opened the hidden biometric terminal concealed behind the antique oil portrait of Marcus's grandfather.
I pressed my right index finger to the glass.
ADMINISTRATIVE OVERRIDE: LEVEL 0
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USER: NATALIE HALE // DUAL-DIRECTOR PRIVILEGES
COMMAND: SYSTEM BLACKOUT // ALL ARRAYS
EXECUTION: IMMEDIATE
The thirty-six closed-circuit cameras across the estate died in a synchronized, silent blink. The perimeter laser grids deactivated. The digital gate logs dropped into a continuous, looping diagnostic cycle.
In 2018, when Marcus had taken the firm public, he had insisted on granting me equal, un-revocable administrative root access to every physical and digital security protocol in the Hale empire, laughing that his wife was the only human being he trusted with his life.
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Tonight, I used that absolute trust to become a ghost.
I did not take a town car. I did not call an Uber.
I walked out the rear garden gate, through the dense rhododendron thickets bordering the adjacent public park, and stepped into an unmarked, dark-gray SUV idling at the curb.
