Chapter 4 - The Forty-Fifth Floor Wasn't Empty
By seven that morning, Reed Global employees were arriving for work.
Nobody knew the owner had nearly died in their elevator.
Nobody knew the executive vice president of Finance was missing.
Nobody knew police had found blood in his abandoned car.
Corporate life continued because corporate life always continued.
Coffee brewed.
Badges beeped.
Elevators opened.
People complained about meetings.
I sat inside Alexander Reed's hospital room with photographs of myself spread across my lap.
The image of Peter outside my apartment bothered me most.
Not because I liked him.
Because I knew him.
Or thought I did.
“Was he following me?”
Alexander looked tired.
“Maybe.”
“What does maybe mean?”
“It means the surveillance began before we identified Calloway.”
“You thought Peter was watching me?”
“I thought someone was.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Marcus looked away.
Alexander didn't.
“Because I wanted to know who they were watching you for.”
I almost stood.
“You used me as bait?”
“No.”
“That sounds exactly like what you did.”
“You were already being watched before I knew your name.”
“Then you should have warned me.”
“Yes.”
The answer stopped me.
No defense.
No excuse.
He simply said:
“Yes.”
I wasn't used to powerful men doing that.
Peter never admitted mistakes.
Executives at Reed could turn a typo into someone else's strategic misunderstanding.
Alexander looked at the photographs.
“I thought I had more time.”
“You almost didn't have any.”
“I know.”
I picked up the photo of myself entering the grocery store.
“I don't want to be part of this.”
“You shouldn't be.”
“Good.”
“But whoever followed you may not care what you want.”
I hated him for saying it.
Mostly because he was right.
By nine, Reed's board knew Alexander had suffered a medical emergency.
The official internal memo called it “a cardiac event.”
No mention of the elevator.
No mention of me.
No mention of Peter.
At 9:17, my email access was suspended.
At 9:19, HR called.
The woman sounded terrified.
“Emily, you've been placed on temporary administrative leave.”
“Why?”
“We're conducting a review.”
“Of what?”
“I can't discuss details.”
“Who authorized it?”
Silence.
“Was it Jonathan Mercer?”
Our CEO.
More silence.
That was enough.
Alexander held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
I handed it to him.
“This is Alexander Reed.”
The HR woman stopped breathing.
Literally.
I heard it.
“Yes, Mr. Reed.”
“Ms. Carter is not on leave.”
“I received written authorization from—”
“I don't care.”
A pause.
“Restore her access.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And send me the authorization.”
Another pause.
“Yes, sir.”
He handed back the phone.
“Problem solved.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You don't get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Snap your fingers and make everything disappear.”
“I didn't make anything disappear.”
“You made HR afraid.”
“They should be afraid if they're suspending employees without cause.”
“That's exactly my point.”
He studied me.
“You're angry.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I almost laughed.
“Why good?”
“Most people around me stopped being angry to my face years ago.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
For the first time, Alexander laughed.
Then immediately grabbed his ribs.
“Don't.”
“That was your fault.”
“You deserved it.”
Marcus returned before either of us could say more.
He carried a tablet.
“Police traced Calloway's last phone activity.”
“Where?” Alexander asked.
“Reed Tower.”
I turned.
“What?”
“At 12:03 a.m.”
“But he left the garage.”
“His car did.”
The room went silent.
Marcus placed the tablet down.
“Garage footage shows the Range Rover leaving. Camera angle never captures the driver clearly.”
“So Peter may have stayed inside?”
“Yes.”
I thought about the stairwell.
The missing folder.
“Then whose blood was in the car?”
“Lab hasn't confirmed.”
Alexander's face hardened.
Marcus continued.
“There's more. We restored partial footage from forty-five.”
My stomach tightened.
“The elevator?”
“Not the interior camera. Hallway.”
He tapped the screen.
Grainy footage appeared.
Timestamp 11:39 p.m.
Eight minutes before Alexander collapsed.
A figure emerged from the executive audit suite.
Woman.
Tall.
Dark coat.
Face partially obscured.
She walked toward the elevator.
She stopped.
Looked directly toward the camera.
Then moved outside frame.
At 11:42, Alexander entered the hallway.
At 11:43, the feed died.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Marcus froze the image.
Alexander stared.
He knew.
I could tell.
“Alex?” Marcus asked.
Alexander's voice changed.
“That looks like Vivian.”
“Vivian who?”
Neither answered.
I looked between them.
“Who is Vivian?”
Alexander leaned back.
“Vivian Shaw.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Marcus explained.
“Chief legal officer.”
I blinked.
“I've never seen her.”
“She works primarily from New York,” Alexander said. “She flew into Chicago yesterday.”
“Why?”
“To meet me.”
My stomach dropped.
“Before you met me?”
“Yes.”
“What about?”
He looked at Marcus.
Then at me.
“The audit.”
I stood.
“You thought Peter was involved. Vivian knew. And now Peter's missing.”
Alexander nodded.
“Correct.”
“Could she have taken the folder?”
“Yes.”
“Could she have shut off the cameras?”
Marcus said, “She has access.”
“Could she have caused Alexander's collapse?”
Silence.
That silence again.
I hated it.
Alexander broke it.
“I had dinner with Vivian at eight.”
The room became very still.
“What did you eat?”
“Same as her.”
“Drink?”
“Scotch.”
“Did she pour it?”
He thought.
“No. Server.”
“Anything after?”
“Coffee in my office.”
“Who made it?”
He looked toward the window.
“My assistant had left.”
Marcus understood first.
“Vivian?”
Alexander nodded.
“She brought it in.”
I felt sick.
“Did the hospital run toxicology?”
“They are now,” Marcus said.
Alexander's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed while listening.
He hung up.
“What?” I asked.
“Toxicology found a beta blocker in my blood.”
“Is that bad?”
“I don't take beta blockers.”
Marcus became completely still.
Alexander continued.
“At high enough levels, it can dangerously slow heart function.”
I looked at him.
“You were drugged.”
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
My phone vibrated.
A calendar notification appeared.
Meeting invitation.
10:30 a.m.
Executive Boardroom.
Organizer: Vivian Shaw.
Subject:
EMERGENCY SUCCESSION VOTE.
I showed Alexander.
His face went cold.
“She's moving now.”
“Moving for what?”
He looked at me.
“Control.”
Marcus checked the time.
“The board meeting starts in forty-five minutes.”
Alexander pulled the heart monitor leads aside.
The machine began alarming.
“What are you doing?”
“Going to work.”
“You almost died four hours ago.”
“Exactly.”
He swung his legs toward the floor.
I stared at him.
“You cannot be serious.”
He looked up.
“Vivian thinks I'm unconscious.”
Marcus shook his head.
“Alex—”
“She thinks she has forty-eight hours to remove me.”
“Then let her think that.”
Alexander stopped.
I saw the moment the idea landed.
Marcus continued.
“If she believes you're incapacitated, she'll expose everyone working with her.”
Alexander looked at me.
I understood what came next before he said it.
“You want me to go back.”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I want you safe.”
“But?”
He was silent.
“But I'm the analyst who found the transfers.”
He nodded.
“And they just tried to suspend me.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the photographs again.
Peter outside my apartment.
Whoever was behind this already knew where I lived.
Going home would not make me safe.
I hated that realization.
“What would I have to do?”
Alexander answered carefully.
“Attend the board meeting.”
“As what?”
“My financial analyst.”
“I am not your financial analyst.”
“You are today.”
I stared at him.
Then at Marcus.
“This is insane.”
Marcus didn't disagree.
My phone buzzed again.
A message from an internal number.
Ms. Carter, your presence at the 10:30 board meeting is mandatory.
Beneath it appeared a second line.
We need to discuss the report you were never supposed to find.
May you like
And at the bottom was a name.
Vivian Shaw.
