Chapter 2 - The Secretary Who Was Suddenly UntouchableCaitlyn woke fourteen hours later.
For several seconds she did not understand why sunlight was pouring through her bedroom window.
Then she saw the clock.
6:43 p.m.
She sat upright.
Her phone contained twenty-seven notifications.
Her heart stopped.
Six emails from Hamilton Enterprises.
Three calendar alerts.
Two calls from an unknown number.
One voicemail from Tommy's care facility.
And seventeen messages from coworkers, several containing variations of the same sentence.
ARE YOU ALIVE?
Caitlyn scrambled from bed.
Deari's jacket slid from her shoulders.
She stared at it.
Memory returned.
The plane.
His shoulder.
His men staring.
His jacket over her body.
His order that nobody wake her.
Caitlyn covered her face.
She had fallen asleep on Deari Hamilton.
People had allegedly disappeared for less.
Her phone rang.
Hamilton Enterprises.
She answered immediately.
“Caitlyn Elmore.”
“Miss Elmore?”
It was Mrs. Patel from human resources.
“Yes.”
“I was told to confirm that you're awake.”
Caitlyn blinked.
“I'm sorry?”
“Mr. Hamilton's office called twice.”
“My office is Mr. Hamilton's office.”
“Yes. That is why this has been confusing.”
Caitlyn rubbed her forehead.
“Am I fired?”
There was a pause.
“Not that I know of.”
“Did he say why he needed me?”
“He said—and I'm quoting directly—‘If she logs into the company server before tomorrow morning, disable her credentials.’”
Caitlyn stared at the wall.
“What?”
“He also extended your paid leave through tomorrow.”
Caitlyn nearly dropped the phone.
Deari Hamilton had given her a day off.
Without being asked.
Paid.
That was arguably more terrifying than execution.
“Thank you.”
She hung up.
Immediately, the voicemail from Tommy's facility caught her attention.
She pressed play.
“Miss Elmore, this is Dr. Sanders from Evergreen Residential Center. Tommy is stable, but we need to discuss his upcoming neurological evaluation and a change in insurance coverage. Please call us.”
Caitlyn's stomach twisted.
There it was.
Reality.
She called.
Twenty minutes later she sat at her kitchen table fighting tears.
Insurance would stop covering part of Tommy's specialized treatment at the beginning of the following month.
Additional cost: $7,800 monthly.
Impossible.
Even with Hamilton's generous salary.
“Is there another program?” Caitlyn asked.
Dr. Sanders hesitated.
“There are state-supported options.”
“Would he keep Dr. Levin?”
“No.”
“Occupational therapy?”
“Reduced.”
“The sensory program?”
“Probably discontinued.”
Caitlyn closed her eyes.
Tommy had severe neurological complications from an accident when he was fourteen.
Their parents died the same night.
Caitlyn had been twenty.
Tommy survived.
Technically.
He could walk short distances.
He could speak.
He remembered her.
But brain trauma had changed him permanently.
Evergreen gave him stability.
Moving him could destroy years of progress.
“I'll figure it out,” Caitlyn whispered.
She always did.
The next morning she arrived at Hamilton Tower at six twelve.
Her access badge worked again.
The lobby guard stared.
Caitlyn stopped.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He looked away.
On the twenty-eighth floor, two assistants from legal suddenly became extremely interested in a copier.
Caitlyn knew.
Everyone knew.
She marched toward her desk.
A small box sat beside her keyboard.
Inside was a new ergonomic neck pillow.
No note.
Caitlyn stared at it.
Luigi appeared behind her.
“Cute.”
She jumped.
“Mr. Cavalier.”
“You look less dead.”
“Thank you?”
He picked up the pillow.
“You know what I like about you, Elmore?”
“I wasn't aware you liked me.”
“Neither was I.”
He grinned.
“You did something I've never seen anyone do.”
Caitlyn closed her eyes.
“Please don't.”
“You used Deari Hamilton as furniture.”
“Please stop.”
“Man once broke somebody's wrist for grabbing his shoulder.”
Caitlyn went pale.
Luigi laughed.
“Relax. You're still breathing.”
“Barely.”
He put the pillow down.
“Seriously though.”
His expression changed.
“Be careful.”
Caitlyn looked at him.
“About what?”
Luigi lowered his voice.
“Attention.”
Before she could ask, Deari's office door opened.
“Caitlyn.”
She stood immediately.
“Yes, Mr. Hamilton.”
“Inside.”
Luigi gave her a look she could not interpret.
Caitlyn entered.
Deari stood behind his desk.
No jacket.
Sleeves rolled.
A dangerous amount of forearm visible for eight in the morning.
Caitlyn hated that she noticed.
“Close the door.”
She did.
Deari gestured toward a chair.
She sat.
He studied her.
“You slept.”
“Fourteen hours.”
“Good.”
“I apologize for yesterday.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What did I tell you about that word?”
She stopped.
Deari sat opposite her rather than behind the desk.
That alone felt unusual.
“Tell me about Tommy.”
Caitlyn's hands tightened.
“Why?”
“Because you're killing yourself to pay something.”
“I am not killing myself.”
“You worked forty-six hours.”
“That was an unusual week.”
“No.”
Deari leaned back.
“I checked.”
Her cheeks burned.
Of course he had.
“You average sixty-eight hours.”
“You pay overtime.”
“That's not the point.”
“It is to me.”
Deari studied her.
Caitlyn looked toward the window.
“My brother requires residential medical care.”
“How long?”
“Seven years.”
“What happened?”
“A car accident.”
Deari did not interrupt.
“My parents were driving. Tommy was in the back seat. I was at college.”
Her voice became quieter.
“My parents died. Tommy had a traumatic brain injury.”
Deari's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
Caitlyn continued.
“He's twenty-one now.”
“Evergreen?”
She looked at him.
“You really did read everything.”
“Only after you nearly collapsed.”
Caitlyn folded her hands.
“His insurance changed yesterday.”
Deari became still.
“How much?”
“No.”
“I asked how much.”
“And I'm telling you that is not your problem.”
Deari's jaw tightened.
“Caitlyn.”
“I work for you.”
“Yes.”
“You pay me extremely well.”
“Yes.”
“You do not get to buy the parts of my life that become inconvenient.”
Deari stared.
Anyone else might have immediately apologized.
Caitlyn did not.
She was terrified.
But Tommy had been her responsibility since she was twenty.
She could tolerate Deari's anger easier than pity.
“I'm not asking you to buy anything,” he said.
“It sounds exactly like that.”
“I have a corporate medical foundation.”
“No.”
“It exists for employees.”
“I don't qualify.”
“You do.”
“I checked.”
“That was yesterday.”
Caitlyn's eyes narrowed.
“You changed it?”
Deari said nothing.
Her mouth opened.
“You changed an entire benefits policy overnight?”
“It was inefficient.”
“For me.”
“For several employees.”
“How many?”
Deari looked annoyed.
“Seven.”
Caitlyn stared.
“You found six other people so you could pretend this wasn't about me?”
“It wasn't difficult.”
Despite herself, a laugh escaped her.
Deari looked surprised.
Caitlyn covered her mouth.
“I'm sorry.”
“Again.”
She lowered her hand.
“I don't know what to say.”
“Say you'll submit the application.”
Her eyes filled unexpectedly.
She looked away.
Deari's tone softened.
“Caitlyn.”
“I don't like owing people.”
“You owe the company the same thing every employee owes.”
“What?”
“Work.”
“I already give you my entire life.”
The sentence hung between them.
Deari went silent.
Caitlyn immediately wished she could take it back.
She stood.
“I should—”
“Sit.”
Not harsh.
Just firm.
She sat.
Deari looked down at his hands.
“When I inherited Hamilton Enterprises, half the men around me believed anyone on payroll belonged to the company.”
He lifted his eyes.
“I hated that.”
Caitlyn remained quiet.
“Then apparently I built a system where my secretary believes she needs to stay awake for two days to remain useful.”
He leaned back.
“That sounds like the same thing with better furniture.”
Caitlyn had never heard him criticize himself.
Not once.
“What are you saying?”
“That you work forty hours.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Forty-five during travel.”
“Impossible.”
“Hire an assistant.”
“I am the assistant.”
“Then hire yourself an assistant.”
Caitlyn stared.
Deari looked serious.
“You manage half my operational life. You should have had support months ago.”
She folded her arms.
“And if I say no?”
“I promote you.”
“To what?”
“Chief executive coordinator.”
“That sounds invented.”
“It is.”
Caitlyn laughed again.
Deari's gaze lingered on the sound.
Something warm and unfamiliar moved through his chest.
Then his phone rang.
Luigi.
Deari answered.
“What?”
His expression changed.
Caitlyn saw it immediately.
The softer man vanished.
“What location?”
Pause.
“Anyone hurt?”
His jaw tightened.
“I'll be there in twenty.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Caitlyn asked.
Deari stood.
“Moretti.”
Her stomach tightened.
“The storefront?”
“Something else.”
“Do you need me?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Caitlyn noticed.
Deari put on his jacket.
“Go to HR. Complete the medical foundation paperwork.”
“Mr. Hamilton—”
“Deari.”
She froze.
He froze too.
Neither spoke.
Deari Hamilton did not invite employees to use his first name.
Especially not secretaries.
He recovered first.
“Inside this office.”
Caitlyn's heart behaved strangely.
“Okay…Deari.”
The sound of his name in her voice did something equally strange to him.
He turned toward the door before either could examine it.
“Stay here today.”
“Why?”
Deari stopped.
There was no safe answer.
Because Luigi had just reported that another Hamilton property had been attacked.
This time, someone had spray-painted a message across the wall.
A message accompanied by a printed photograph.
Caitlyn leaving the airport in Deari's jacket.
The words underneath were simple.
WE SEE WHAT YOU PROTECT.
Deari looked at her.
She had no idea.
“Because I said so.”
Caitlyn's expression immediately cooled.
Wrong answer.
Deari sighed.
“Because there may be a security issue.”
“What kind?”
“I don't know yet.”
“That means you do know.”
He opened the door.
“Caitlyn.”
She stood.
“I'm not a child.”
“No.”
His gaze moved over her face.
“That is precisely the problem.”
He left.
An hour later Deari stood inside a ruined warehouse in Brooklyn.
The photograph had been pinned to the wall with a knife.
Luigi watched him remove it.
“Could be a bluff.”
“No.”
Deari stared at Caitlyn's image.
Someone had circled her head in red ink.
His pulse remained calm.
His thoughts did not.
“How did they know?”
“Airport surveillance maybe.”
“Find out.”
“Already doing it.”
Deari took out his lighter.
The photograph caught fire.
Luigi watched.
“You're going to need to tell her.”
“No.”
“She's already in it.”
“No.”
“Boss.”
Deari turned.
Luigi lowered his voice.
“You can keep pretending she's just a secretary.”
He looked toward the burning photograph.
“Moretti clearly doesn't.”
Deari watched Caitlyn's image disappear into ash.
For the first time in years, fear entered him.
Not fear of dying.
Deari had made peace with death a long time ago.
This was worse.
May you like
Fear that someone else might die because they mattered to him.
And Vincent Moretti had just discovered the one person Deari had not realized mattered until someone threatened to take her away.
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