Chapter 3

The screen went quiet for about thirty seconds.

Then Dad replied: "Just did. Quite interesting. Let's talk at home tonight."

I stared at the words "Quite interesting" for five seconds.

Whenever my dad said something was "interesting," it meant things were about to get messy.

At five-thirty, I packed up my things to head home.

I shut down my computer, washed my mug, and locked my drawers. I had been doing this routine for three months, and it was pure muscle memory now.

A few colleagues were standing by the elevators. When they saw me approaching, they quickly took a step back, as if I carried some kind of plague.

I pressed the button for B2.

One of them, a girl named Sarah, smirked. "B2 is reserved for executive parking. Did you press the wrong button?"

I didn't answer.

Right before the elevator doors slid shut, I heard Sarah whisper to the person next to her, "Is she trying to sneak down there to steal something from the nice cars? Only the executives park on B2."

Then came a chorus of hushed snickers.

The doors closed.

I leaned against the elevator wall, watching the numbers tick down.

B2.

The doors slid open. The underground parking garage was dimly lit, smelling of concrete and exhaust fumes.

My black Maybach sat quietly in its reserved spot, the license plate bearing my birthday.

My chauffeur, George, was already standing by the door in his sharp suit and white gloves. He smiled when he saw me. "Rough day, Miss Miller?"

"Got called a thief all afternoon. What do you think?" I climbed into the back, the premium leather seats instantly making me feel at ease.

"Who had the nerve? Should I inform your father?"

"No need. Just take me home."

George closed the door, walked around to the driver's seat, and started the engine. The Maybach glided silently out of the parking space and up the ramp.

As we cleared the garage, the evening sun flooded the car, forcing me to squint.

I dialed my dad's number.

"Dad, is everything set for tomorrow?"

My dad's deep, calm voice came through the speaker with a hint of amusement. "Everything is set. HR, legal, and security are fully coordinated. Tomorrow morning at eight-thirty sharp, the hammer drops."

"And," I paused, "what did you find out about Brooke?"

The line went quiet for a beat.

"Apex Corp," my dad’s voice turned cold, losing its warmth. "Three months before Brooke joined our company, someone from Apex took her out to a very expensive dinner. Shortly after, a hundred thousand dollars was wired to her account."

My fingers tightened, my nails digging into my palm.

"A hundred thousand?"

"Yes. Wired in two transactions, labeled as 'consulting fees.' She's an admin supervisor. What could she possibly consult on? It was a blatant bribe."

I leaned my head back, staring out the sunroof.

Outside, the downtown skyline was gray and overcast.

"So today wasn't just a random tantrum?"