The Mistress
“Just breathe, Victoria. Marcus has the loop running on the main security feed. For the next twelve minutes, Julian is watching a digital ghost of us sitting in the library reading architecture journals. But if you keep hyperventilating, you’re going to trip the acoustic sensors.”
“I’m not hyperventilating,” I whispered, though the air felt thin, like I was inhaling glass. “I’m experiencing the high-speed realization that I’m committing a felony in my own family museum.”
We stood at the back of the Vermon wing, tucked behind a massive, obsidian bust of my grandfather, Silas. The museum was a mausoleum of Vermon history—blueprints, models, and antique tools—but beneath the marble floor lay th