Chapter 2 - The Woman on the Fourth Floor
Ava did not slap Damian. For one reckless instant, she wanted to. Instead, she asked him to repeat what he had said, and June, standing two yards away, let her phone continue recording.
“The building is already ours,” Damian said again. “The sale closes at nine. Your mother’s situation is unfortunate, but progress doesn’t wait for sentiment.”
“What sale?” Ava asked. “Birch Court belongs to a family trust. The tenants were told the owner was arranging repairs.”
“Ask your fiancé. His company bid on the redevelopment.”
Gabriel’s expression changed. “Mercer Civic submitted a rehabilitation proposal. We were told the Langfords withdrew their demolition application.”
“Then I suppose somebody gave you the wrong memo.” Damian smoothed his sleeve. He had always done that when he wanted to look calmer than he felt.
Miranda Bellmere arrived from the service entrance and nearly walked into the scene. She saw Ava’s soaked dress, Gabriel beside her, and Victoria’s furious expression. “Ava. My office. Now.”
“I need to finish the shift,” Ava said. “And I need the original of a relocation invoice using our company’s name.”
Miranda stared. “You’re making a scene in front of the client.”
“The client made the scene. There are witnesses.”
Gabriel did not offer to buy Bellmere or threaten its contracts. He took out his phone and called his company’s counsel, asking her to preserve the bid correspondence. Ava appreciated the distinction. She had loved one ambitious man who considered her work an accessory. She did not intend to marry another.
June brought Ava a dry staff jacket. In the locker room, Ava changed into her spare black trousers and blouse, then photographed the stained dress inside a garment bag. June emailed her the unedited footage, keeping an original copy. Miranda watched from the door.
“Whatever you’re imagining about that invoice,” Miranda said, “you’re wrong.”
“Then show it to me.”
“You’re not authorized.”
“I authorized every event invoice until four this afternoon. Why create another under our name?”
Miranda did not answer. She only said Ava could go home and that they would discuss her employment on Monday. Ava returned her event badge, asked for confirmation of her completed hours, and left without begging for the job. It frightened her more than she expected. Bellmere paid the rent; principle did not.
Outside, Gabriel’s driver had pulled the car to the curb. Gabriel asked whether she wanted a ride. She said she wanted to go to Queens. He nodded, told the driver the address, and waited until she sat down before taking the seat beside her.
“You should have told me Mercer bid on Birch Court,” she said.
“You’re right.”
“You knew it was my mother’s building.”
“I knew your mother lived on Fulton Street. I didn’t connect the address on the bid until tonight. That isn’t an excuse.”
Ava watched the wet Manhattan streets slide past. Nine days ago, Gabriel had asked her to marry him with a ring that had belonged to his mother. She had told him she would say yes only if they could disagree without either of them turning the disagreement into a test of loyalty. Tonight seemed a rude but efficient examination.
“Show me everything your company submitted,” she said.
“I will.”
“And if your people knew?”
“Then you’ll know too.”
Nora Reed opened her apartment door wearing a housecoat and the expression she used when Ava tried to hide a fever. A former school bus driver, she lived with the practical certainty of a woman who had navigated New York traffic for twenty-seven years. Her knee had never fully recovered from surgery. She could still get down the four flights in an emergency, but not quickly and not while carrying a suitcase.
“Baby, why are you dressed like you lost a fight with a laundry basket?” Nora asked.
Ava almost laughed. Then she told her mother about the ballroom. Nora drew her inside, fed her toast, and waited until the embarrassment had stopped shaking in her voice before asking about the property account.
“We got new notices today,” Nora said. “They say emergency stabilization crews will start at seven. Management wants us downstairs by six.”
“Where are they putting you?”
“A hotel in Newark. They won’t say for how long.”
Ava went to the kitchen drawer. The notice had no individual relocation contact, no accessibility arrangements, and no explanation for how tenants could retrieve medicine if they were moved before dawn. It claimed an engineer had determined the structure needed immediate evacuation. A stamped signature appeared at the bottom, but the date was blurred.
Gabriel called the number listed for the engineering firm. It went to voicemail. He did not pronounce the notice illegal on sight; instead, he suggested contacting the city’s buildings department and a tenant attorney immediately. Ava called the emergency line while Nora phoned Jo Alvarez, who chaired Birch Court’s tenants’ association.
Within twenty minutes, Jo and five neighbors were around Nora’s table. Among them was Mr. Wu from the second floor, who needed oxygen, and Mrs. Price, who cared for her grandson after school. The relocation plan did not mention either of them. Jo spread out the notices, pointing out that the buildings department website showed an active repair permit but no public demolition authorization.
“Could be an emergency order not posted yet,” she said. “I won’t tell people they can ignore it until we check.”
Ava nodded. “Then we check. We also make a list of who needs help leaving safely if the building really is dangerous.”
It was exactly the sort of unglamorous logistics she knew how to do: names, phone numbers, medications, mobility needs, transportation. She took out a notepad. Nora brewed more coffee. Gabriel called his attorney again, asking for a tenant-side referral rather than sending in his company’s legal team.
At eleven, a lawyer named Priya Shah joined them by video call. She requested copies of every notice and advised them to document conditions without blocking emergency personnel. She would seek clarification from the city in the morning. An overnight stay in a safe place might still be necessary; a sale did not change the obligation to protect people if there was structural danger.
Jo’s phone buzzed. A maintenance worker had sent her a photograph from the basement. It showed fresh locks installed on the storage cages and a printed work order taped to the wall. Jo enlarged the company name.
“Bellmere Relocation,” she read. “Ava, isn’t that your employer?”
Ava felt the last of the champagne chill return. Bellmere planned parties. It did not own trucks, hire movers, or operate relocation hotels. Yet the work order carried Miranda’s digital approval.
Her own employee ID appeared underneath as the project coordinator.
“I’ve never seen this,” she said.
May you like
Across the table, her mother looked at her with sudden fear. “Are they going to tell everyone you did it?”
Ava folded the document into her notebook, leaving the original untouched on Jo’s phone. “They’re welcome to try,” she said. “But first we’re going to find out who used my name.”
