The next morning, Vivian arrived at the Sterling Group tower at 7:30 AM. Early enough to avoid Karen. Late enough that she'd had exactly one cup of coffee and a stale bagel from the bodega on the corner.
The express elevator was empty. She watched the numbers climb. 10. 20. 30. 40. 48.
The doors opened.
Lucian was already there.
He stood by the window, a cup of coffee in his hand, his back to her. He was wearing a charcoal suit today, no tie, the top button of his shirt undone. He looked like he hadn't slept either.
"You're early," he said without turning.
"So are you."
"I never left."
Vivian stopped. "You slept here?"
"There's a couch in my office." He turned. His eyes were tired but clear. "I don't sleep much anyway."
She didn't know what to say to that. So she walked to her desk and set down her bag.
"What's on the schedule today?"
"Meetings. Calls. The usual." He walked toward her and set a thick folder on her desk. "And this."
Vivian looked at the folder. It was old—the edges worn, the paper yellowing. No label. No date.
"What is it?"
"Files from the acquisitions department. From before your time." He leaned against her desk, close enough that she could smell his cologne. "I want you to go through them. Look for anything unusual."
"Unusual how?"
"Unusual like your father's name."
Her heart skipped. "You think there's something in here?"
"I think Derek Sterling doesn't make mistakes. But he leaves traces." He tapped the folder. "This is from the period when your father was working with the company. Before the… before everything."
Vivian's hands hovered over the folder. "Why are you giving this to me?"
"Because you're the only one in this building who has a reason to find the truth."
"And what's your reason?"
He was quiet for a moment. Then: "Because my father trusted yours. And my father was right about almost everything."
He walked back to his office and closed the door.
Vivian stared at the folder.
Then she opened it.
The morning passed in a haze of paper.
Vivian sorted through spreadsheets and memos and handwritten notes that someone had scribbled in the margins. Most of it was boring—contracts, invoices, internal reports. But every few pages, she found something that made her pause.
A name she didn't recognize. A dollar amount that seemed too high. A reference to a "special project" that wasn't explained.
At 10:00 AM, Karen appeared.
"You're still here."
Vivian looked up. "I work here."
"Temporarily." Karen smiled her perfect smile. "Lucian has a habit of hiring strays. He feels sorry for them. But he gets bored quickly."
"Good to know."
"I'm sure it is." Karen glanced at the folder on Vivian's desk. "What's that?"
"Old files. Lucian asked me to review them."
"Lucian asked you?" Karen's eyes narrowed. "He doesn't delegate document review to assistants. He does it himself."
"Maybe he's busy."
"Maybe he's testing you." Karen stepped closer. "Let me give you some advice, Vivian. Don't get too comfortable. Don't get too curious. And don't get too close to him."
"Why not?"
"Because I've seen what happens to people who do." Her smile didn't waver. "They don't last long."
She walked away.
Vivian watched her go, her heart pounding.
What does she know? she thought. And what is she hiding?
At 1:00 PM, Lucian emerged from his office.
"Lunch," he said.
"I brought a sandwich."
"You'll eat it later." He held up his jacket. "We're going out."
"Where?"
"Somewhere you can ask questions without being overheard."
He took her to a small diner in Brooklyn, a place with vinyl booths and a jukebox that hadn't been updated since the 1990s. The waitress called him "honey" and didn't seem to recognize him.
"You come here often?" Vivian asked.
"My father used to bring me. Before he died." He slid into the booth across from her. "No one knows about it. No press. No board members. No Karen."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I need you to understand something." He leaned forward. "My father wasn't just a businessman. He was an investigator. He spent the last five years of his life trying to expose something inside the company. Something rotten."
"And he didn't finish?"
"He got close. Too close." Lucian's jaw tightened. "Then he died. Car accident. Black ice on a road he'd driven a thousand times."
"You think it wasn't an accident."
"I know it wasn't." His eyes met hers. "And I think your father knew something about it. That's why Derek wanted him silenced."
Vivian's hands were cold. "You're saying Derek killed my father?"
"I'm saying he created the circumstances that led to his death. The bankruptcy. The shame. The pressure." Lucian's voice was low. "Your father was a good man, Vivian. He didn't deserve what happened to him."
"Then why did he leave that note? Why did he say he'd made a mess?"
"Because he was protecting you." Lucian reached across the table and took her hand. "He knew what Derek was capable of. He knew if he didn't take the blame, Derek would come after you and your mother."
Vivian pulled her hand back. "How do you know all this?"
"Because I found his journal. Your father's. Hidden in a safety deposit box under my mother's name." He pulled an envelope from his jacket and slid it across the table. "I think you should read it."
Vivian stared at the envelope.
Her father's handwriting on the front. For my daughter.
"Where did you get this?"
"He gave it to my father. Before he died. My father gave it to me. On his deathbed." Lucian's voice cracked. "I've been waiting five years to give it to you."
Vivian's hands shook as she opened the envelope.
End of Chapter Five