The ornate doors to Wagner Mansion were wide open in front of Danielle. A tall, imposing man stood before them, checking each guests' ID.
"Evening," he said with perfunctory courtesy.
"Evening to you too," she purred, showing off her invitation and driver's license. His eyes raked over her face, comparing it to the one on the license, and dawdled briefly at her abundant cleavage.
"My husband, Roger, unfortunately had to attend to some business," Danielle said, shaking her head in disappointment, "and he sends his regards and apologies to Mr. Wagner."
He shrugged, obviously uncaring.
"Welcome, Mrs. Ryder," he said, gesturing for her to go inside.
In the spacious, high-ceilinged foyer was a gaggle of well-dressed people, members of the city's elite, the rich and powerful high class. She slunk over to join the crowd, immediately drawing a glance or two.
"Hello," she said, targeting a couple and moving up next to them. The man was older, with graying hair and the body of a linebacker grown old. The woman was younger, blonde, and possessing of curves that rivalled Danielle's.
"Evening," the man said, extending a hand. She took it, and then did the same with the woman.
"My name is Stephanie Ryder," Danielle said.
"I'm Henry Durham," the man said, "and this is my lovely wife, Jessica."
"Are you by yourself this evening?" Jessica asked.
"Yes, unfortunately. My husband had to attend to some overseas business."
Henry frowned. "How unfortunate for him to miss such an event. Sebastian's fundraisers are always so much fun."
She nodded. "Yes, he was loath to leave, but he had to."
Jessica smiled. "We'll keep you company tonight, won't we Henry?"
Henry nodded, his eyes also moving quickly over her cleavage.
The three of them continued to chat. Danielle certainly did not mind the company, as interacting with them kept her from standing out. And Jessica was pretty, resembling any other trophy wife at the fundraiser, but seemingly more intelligent, at least judging from their conversation. Danielle was far from picky with her lovers, but preferred somebody she could talk with afterwards about many different topics.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" called a tremulous voice from one side of the foyer. The crowd turned as one, to see a thin, spindly man standing before a set of tall, oak doors. He had an enthusiastic smile etched across his face, and a bounce in his step as he approached the gaggle.
"Welcome everybody! The night will start in a few moments; Mr. Wagner will address everyone and then we will head inside for some entertainment before dinner. If you need to freshen up before the festivities begin, the bathrooms are on the left."
He opened the doors behind him and retreated into the darkness beyond. The crowd continued to wait, staring expectantly at the reclosed doors, shifting or murmuring impatiently.
After a few minutes, the door opened again. This time, the man crossing the threshold was younger and more handsome.
Danielle had only seen Sebastian Wagner on TV. When she had heard of this fundraiser, it had seemed to her the perfect opportunity. His mansion most likely was filled with priceless treasures, and since he had many, he was likely unconcerned with keeping track of them. In her experience with stealing from the rich, some of them were meticulous in their cataloguing of their possessions. Others, like Sebastian Wagner, cared little. A few treasures lost here or there did not faze them in the slightest.
"Evening, everyone," Sebastian said. His deep voice quieted the crowd.
"I welcome everybody to my home. Please take your seats; the performers will begin in a few minutes."
He stepped aside, and the crowd made its way inside. Danielle found her assigned seat in the ballroom; she was sharing the table with a few couples and one or two who were going stag like her.
After everybody was seated, the lights dimmed. The performers, a trio of Italian opera singers, strode into the center of the room.
Danielle glanced around the room as they began. The guests watched, rapt.
She let a few minutes pass before making her move. Everybody, including Sebastian Wagner, had their eyes on the performers, so she stood, excusing herself to the guests at her table. They paid her no mind as she stepped away.
Nobody was posted at the doors. She walked quickly through the foyer. The bathrooms were to the left; next to the men's room was another door, which led to a service corridor.
She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone as she hurried along. Saved on it were the schematics Jake had given her. Danielle had never asked how he had gotten them; that part did not matter to her.
Her eyes pored over the schematics, leading her to turn here and there. A staircase led her back up to the first floor. A heavy wooden door stood in her way. It was locked. Danielle quickly took out her gloves, and easily picked said lock.
She continued through the mansion. The upper floors were desolate, as everybody was downstairs, still enjoying the entertainment.
After a few more minutes of exploring, Danielle found a bedroom. It was spacious and seemed seldom-used, but when she opened the drawers and closets, she found a bevy of goods. Bracelets, necklaces, gaudy watches, and many other prizes lay glittering before her. She only had her purse on her, but she did not want a big haul. Having to drag her purse around would arouse suspicion. She selected a few of the smaller pieces, and shoved them deep into her purse.
Just like that, she was headed back downstairs. All she needed to do was slip back inside; if anybody noticed her return and questioned why she had taken so long, she could say it had been stomach problems, or fall back on the always convenient excuse of it being 'her time of the month'.
She was on the second floor, approaching another heavy wooden door, when something hit her from behind. A satisfied chuckle was the last thing she heard before her descent into unconsciousness.
Sometime later, she opened her eyes. She was in a small room, with water damage and cracked paint here and there. Her hands were cuffed to a vertical pipe; they were above her head, her shoulders already feeling awkward. The floor was cold and dirty, her delicate dress a poor barrier against the chill of the tiles.
She glanced around the room for her purse, but it was nowhere to be seen.
The door opened. She expected Sebastian Wagner, but instead the man who appeared was bald and broad, wearing a simple white t-shirt, jeans, and construction boots. Danielle quickly put on her best worried face, thinking back to when her childhood dog died in order to summon tears.
"Hello," he said. "What's your name?"
"Stephanie," she sniffled, "Stephanie Ryder. There - there must be some mistake."
