Chapter 3 - The Secret on the Fortieth Floor
The elevator ride to the ground floor felt entirely too long. Adeline clutched her canvas bag to her chest, the folded note burning inside her pocket like a live coal. Stop looking upstairs.
The cleaning crew was strictly assigned zones. Adeline’s zone was Floors 10 through 19—mostly mid-level accounting firms, tech startups, and consulting agencies. Clean, boring, and utterly devoid of criminal conspiracies. The top ten floors—Floors 40 through 50—were restricted. Private elevator keys, biometric scanners, security details stationed in the hallways. Those floors belonged to Julian Vance and his private executive offices, legal teams, and holding company headquarters.
She had never set foot above the thirty-ninth floor in the two years she had worked at Vance Tower. So why did the note warn her about looking upstairs?
When the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, Marcus was waiting in the lobby. The cavernous marble atrium was deserted at midnight, the massive crystal chandelier casting soft prisms across the polished floor.
"Car’s outside," Marcus said, his voice clipped and efficient.
"Marcus," Adeline stopped, turning to face him before he could push open the glass revolving doors. "Those men tonight... they weren't random street thugs. You knew that. Mr. Vance knew that. What is going on in this building?"
Marcus paused, his hand resting on the brass handle. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. For a second, Adeline thought he would give her the standard corporate boilerplate—security is our top priority, please direct questions to HR—but instead, a heavy sigh escaped his lips.
"Mr. Vance likes quiet, Adeline," Marcus said quietly. "He buys buildings to keep things quiet. But sometimes, people from the outside try to make noise. You were just standing in the echo chamber."
"Was I?" She pulled the folded paper from her pocket and held it out, letting it rest on her palm. "Found this in my locker five minutes ago."
Marcus’s eyes dropped to the note. His posture didn't change, but the air around him seemed to drop ten degrees. He didn't touch the paper, but he read the three words instantly.
"Put that back in your pocket," Marcus said, his voice dropping an octave. "And don't mention it to anyone. Especially not Mr. Vance."
"Why? Because he doesn't care, or because he already knows?"
Before Marcus could answer, the glass doors behind him parted, and Julian Vance walked into the lobby. He had removed his overcoat, leaving him in a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing lean, corded muscle and a silver watch that likely cost more than Adeline’s apartment building.
Julian looked at Marcus, then down at Adeline, whose hand was still half-extended with the note.
"Problem?" Julian asked, his voice smooth as glass.
"No problem, Mr. Vance," Marcus lied smoothly, stepping back. "Just expediting Miss Pharaoh’s departure."
Adeline’s jaw tightened. She looked straight at Julian, refusing to shrink away from his gaze the way most people in his orbit seemed to do. "Someone left this in my locker, Mr. Vance. Right after five men tried to corner me in your loading dock. I think I deserve to know if my life is in danger just for cleaning your floors."
Julian walked slowly across the marble floor until he was standing a foot away from her. He looked down at the paper in her hand. Without asking permission, he reached out, took the note from her palm with long, elegant fingers, and read the three words.
A shadow crossed his eyes—a brief, dark flicker of calculation.
"Where did you find this?" Julian asked.
"Inside my locker. In the basement."
Julian folded the note once, sliding it into his own breast pocket. "You clean Floors 10 through 19, correct?"
"Yes."
"Did you work on the nineteenth floor last night?"
Adeline frowned, trying to trace back her schedule. "I did. Suite 1912. The corporate tax firm."
Julian’s gaze sharpened. "Did you notice anything unusual in Suite 1912? A file left out? A computer screen left unlocked?"
"No," Adeline said truthfully. "Everything was locked up. I just emptied the shredders, wiped the desks, and vacuumed."
"The shredders," Julian murmured, more to himself than to her. He looked back up at Adeline, his eyes unreadable. "Marcus, take her home. Double the security detail on her building for the next forty-eight hours."
May you like
"Mr. Vance, wait—"
"Adeline," Julian interrupted, his tone soft but absolute. "You are safe tonight. But from this moment forward, you report directly to Marcus if you see anything, hear anything, or find anything out of place. Do you understand?"
