Chapter 7 - Shadows in the Penthouse
That evening, the celebration in Adrian's penthouse was quiet. No champagne corks popped; no guests arrived. Just the two of us standing on the expansive outdoor terrace, looking down at the glittering veins of traffic pulsing through the city below.
I held a glass of red wine, feeling the cool night breeze whip my hair around my face. The adrenaline of the boardroom takeover was finally wearing off, leaving behind a profound, hollow exhaustion.
"You handled her brilliantly today," Adrian said, leaning against the glass railing beside me. He had removed his suit jacket, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing strong, corded muscles.
"I learned from the best," I murmured, taking a slow sip of the wine. "Or perhaps from the most ruthless."
Adrian turned his head, looking at me in the dim ambient light of the terrace. "Ruthlessness is just survival with a better PR department, Victoria. Don't mistake what we did today for cruelty. We simply reclaimed what was stolen from us."
"My father..." I started, my voice faltering slightly as the weight of the earlier conversation returned. "You really believe Celeste and Richard had something to do with his car crash?"
Adrian's expression tightened. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, old-fashioned brass key, holding it up between his fingers. "Your father kept a secure storage locker at a private facility downtown. When I acquired his debt portfolio, I also acquired his personal estate registry. This key opens locker 409. I haven't opened it yet. I wanted you to be the one to see what's inside."
I stared at the brass key gleaming in the moonlight. My heart hammered against my ribs. For two years, I had believed my father died because of his own reckless driving. The thought that someone murdered him—that my stepmother traded his life for corporate control—turned my blood to ice.
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"When do we go?" I asked, my voice steady.
"Right now," Adrian said, slipping the key into my hand. His fingers brushed mine, sending a warm, electric current straight up my arm that contrasted sharply with the cold metal. "Put your shoes on, Victoria. We're going hunting for the truth."
