Chapter 2 - The Night My CEO Asked Me to Stay Late, Someone Tried to Make Sure I Never Left the BuildingBy Monday morning, I had barely slept.
I checked my voicemail three times.
The unknown caller had left nothing.
Liam Mercer behaved as if Friday had never happened.
He congratulated me on a successful presentation.
He asked about my mother.
He even offered me a promotion.
That was what scared me.
“Senior Director of Strategic Analytics,” he said.
The office around us was filled with glass walls and sunlight.
“You've earned it.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He smiled.
“Because you're talented.”
“That never stopped you from telling me my reports were too aggressive.”
“People change.”
“Apparently.”
His smile remained.
“I'd like you on my side, Owen.”
The sentence lingered.
“What side?”
He laughed.
“That's the problem with analysts.”
“What?”
“You think everything is binary.”
He walked away.
I watched him enter his office.
Then I looked at my computer.
There was an email waiting.
From Diana.
My office. 9:00 PM.
I stared at it.
It was 8:47 PM.
I had been working since six in the morning.
My mother's medication pickup was scheduled for tomorrow.
I should have left.
Instead, I went upstairs.
Diana was standing barefoot in front of the windows.
Her heels were abandoned near the sofa.
She wore a black dress and looked exhausted.
“You came.”
“You said nine.”
“I didn't think you would.”
“That's insulting.”
She smiled.
“I'm learning.”
She handed me a cup of coffee.
I looked at it suspiciously.
“What?”
“You're making coffee now?”
“I can make coffee.”
“You're a CEO.”
“I'm aware.”
“Then why?”
“Because I spilled wine on my assistant's laptop once.”
I laughed.
She smiled.
For a moment, we were normal people.
Then she handed me a file.
“What did you find?”
I opened it.
“Liam.”
Her expression didn't change.
“You're sure?”
“Eighty-seven percent.”
“I don't like eighty-seven percent.”
“Neither do I.”
She sat down.
“Tell me.”
I explained everything.
Repeated invoices.
Fictitious subsidiaries.
Payments to Gabriel.
And finally the account controlled by Liam.
Diana listened without interruption.
When I finished, she asked,
“Do you trust your model?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust yourself?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She leaned back.
“Now tell me what you're missing.”
I frowned.
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do.”
I looked again.
There was a strange pattern.
The suspicious transactions didn't happen randomly.
They occurred immediately before major executive decisions.
Acquisitions.
Layoffs.
Board votes.
Every time someone was removed from power, money moved.
I looked up.
“They're buying votes.”
Diana nodded.
“Exactly.”
“Then Gabriel isn't just stealing money.”
“No.”
“He's building influence.”
“Yes.”
“And Liam is helping.”
“Maybe.”
I looked at her.
“You still don't believe Liam is the main person.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Liam is too obvious.”
I leaned back.
“So who?”
She didn't answer.
My phone rang.
Mom.
I answered.
“Hey.”
Her voice sounded strained.
“Owen, sweetheart…”
I knew that tone.
“What happened?”
“The hospital called.”
My heart dropped.
“Why?”
“They moved Thursday's treatment to tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
“They said there was a scheduling issue.”
I looked at Diana.
She was watching me.
“How much?”
Mom hesitated.
“Six thousand.”
I closed my eyes.
“We don't have six thousand.”
“I know.”
“I'll figure it out.”
“Owen—”
“I'll figure it out.”
I hung up.
Silence.
Diana asked,
“How much?”
“I'm handling it.”
“How much?”
“It's personal.”
“I know.”
She opened a drawer.
Pulled out a check.
Placed it on the table.
I stared.
“No.”
“Take it.”
“No.”
“It's an advance.”
“On what?”
“Your promotion.”
I pushed it away.
“I don't want charity.”
“It's not charity.”
“It feels like it.”
She studied me.
Then she tore the check in half.
“There.”
I stared.
“Happy?”
“No.”
She smiled slightly.
“Good.”
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
“What?”
Silence.
“Lock the building.”
She stood.
“What happened?”
She covered the phone.
“Someone accessed the executive server.”
My stomach tightened.
“From where?”
“My office.”
I looked around.
“That's impossible.”
She stared at me.
“Apparently not.”
We ran.
The hallway lights flickered.
The building had emptied.
Only security and senior executives remained.
Diana entered her office.
Her computer was on.
The screen showed a file.
My father's name.
I stepped closer.
The file contained an audio recording.
Diana pressed play.
My father's voice filled the room.
“If anyone hears this, Gabriel Vance cannot be trusted.”
Diana froze.
I stared.
The recording continued.
“He knows about the trust.”
Static.
“If he discovers where the original documents are, he will control the company.”
I whispered,
“What original documents?”
Then my father's voice said something that made my blood run cold.
“Diana's father was not killed in an accident.”
Diana stopped the recording.
She looked at me.
“Your father knew.”
I nodded.
“Apparently.”
Then the lights went out.
A gunshot cracked through the darkness.
Diana grabbed me and pulled me behind her desk.
Another shot.
Glass shattered.
Security rushed into the office.
Someone was running through the corridor.
I heard footsteps.
Then silence.
Diana looked at me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
She touched my cheek.
“You're bleeding.”
I hadn't even noticed.
She wiped the blood away with her thumb.
For one suspended second, neither of us moved.
Then she whispered,
“I thought I lost you.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“You barely know me.”
She shook her head.
“That's not true.”
Security found the window.
It had been opened from inside.
Diana's office had been compromised.
Not broken into.
Opened.
The shooter had access.
That meant the person who wanted Diana dead wasn't outside.
They were already in the building.
May you like
And as I looked at the security team, I suddenly realized something even worse.
Liam Mercer wasn't there.
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