Chapter 4 - The Forty-Second Floor
I didn't sleep well. Every time I closed my eyes in the massive, cloud-soft king bed of the guest suite, I heard my father's voice echoing through the storm: Take Sadie instead.
By 6:00 AM, I was fully awake. I showered, pulled my hair back into a sleek, professional bun, and put on the best outfit I had brought with me—a structured navy blazer and tailored trousers. I didn't have makeup, nor did I have expensive jewelry, but when I looked in the mirror, the girl who used to hide under baggy cardigans was nowhere to be found.
When I walked out into the main living area, the smell of fresh espresso and toasted sourdough filled the air.
Roman was sitting at the marble kitchen island, wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing complex black line-work tattoos covering his skin. He was reading a printed financial report, a cup of coffee at his elbow.
He looked up as I entered. For a brief second, his eyes lingered on my face, an approving gleam passing through them.
"Good morning, Sadie," he said.
"Good morning, Mr. Costa."
"Roman," he corrected gently, sliding a plate toward the stool beside him. "We are business partners now. Call me Roman."
On the plate was a poached egg on avocado toast, prepared with high-end precision. A fresh espresso sat beside it.
"Did you make this?" I asked, blinking in surprise.
"I don't trust caterers with breakfast," he replied simply, turning a page of his report. "Eat. We leave in twenty minutes."
I sat on the high stool, picking up the fork. "I need full administrative access to your core accounts if I'm going to do a proper forensic audit of Costa Capital."
"Already setup," Roman said. "Your credentials were generated at 4:00 AM. You have unrestricted access to all five corporate branches, including the private equity ledgers."
I paused, a piece of toast halfway to my mouth. "Unrestricted? You're giving a stranger—the daughter of a man who owes you millions—unrestricted access to your financial infrastructure?"
Roman set his report down, leaning his elbows on the counter, bringing his face closer to mine. "You're not a stranger, Sadie. I've been watching Miller Development for six months. Every time Thomas filed a brilliant tax restructure or found a loophole to save his firm from insolvency, I checked the digital signatures on the documents."
He reached out, his long, warm fingers gently touching the corner of the paper I had brought with me.
"They were all signed by you," Roman murmured. "Your father is an arrogant figurehead who couldn't balance a checkbook without a calculator. You are the brain behind his entire operation. I didn't take you as collateral to hurt him, Sadie. I took you because you were the only real asset he had left."
My heart did a strange, erratic beat against my ribs. All my life, my father had claimed my work as his own, taking credit at board meetings while keeping me hidden in the back office. Roman had noticed me from miles away, through lines of dry financial code.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at Costa Capital's headquarters in the financial district.
The forty-second floor was a bustling hive of high-powered analysts, traders, and attorneys. But the moment Roman walked off the private elevator, the entire floor went silent. Executives straightened their ties, assistants froze with folders in hand, and respect radiated through the hallway.
Roman led me past glass-walled conference rooms to a corner office overlooking the East River. Inside was an immaculate mahogany desk, double monitors, a leather chair, and stacks of organized ledgers waiting for review.
"This is your space," Roman said, stepping aside.
"It's bigger than my father's office," I whispered, stepping inside and touching the cool polished surface of the desk.
"Your father didn't deserve you," Roman said bluntly. "You have four weeks to complete the initial audit of our third-quarter acquisitions. If you need anything, my office is right through that connecting door."
He pointed to a heavy frosted-glass door linking our two workspaces.
As I sat down in the high-backed leather chair, turning on the monitors, a sense of quiet power washed over me for the first time in my life. I was no longer the unwanted daughter tucked away in the shadows of a Connecticut mansion.
I was Sadie Miller, Senior Forensic Auditor of Costa Capital.
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And as I pulled up the first ledger, I realized something that made a cold smile touch my lips: I knew every hidden account, every fraudulent off-book loan, and every illegal shell company my father had ever created.
If Roman wanted his three point four million dollars back, I knew exactly where to cut Thomas Miller to make him bleed cash.
