Chapter 4 - The Visitor from the Past
The afternoon sun was sliding down the western skyline, casting long, fractured shadows across the marble floor of the office when the private elevator chimed. That chime usually meant Frankie or a delivery, but this time, the heavy oak doors swung open to reveal a man who looked entirely out of place in a sanctuary of glass and steel. He wore an expensive charcoal Brioni suit that screamed old money, his silver-streaked hair combed back with military precision, and a thin, predatory smile plastered across his face.
"Jonah," the man said, stepping past the threshold without waiting for an invitation. "Still playing hermit in the sky, I see."
Jonah didn't look up from his tablet immediately. When he finally did, the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees. "Julian. I thought I told security to permanently revoke your keycard."
Julian chuckled, walking leisurely toward the desk and dropping a thick leather portfolio right on top of the financial spreadsheets. "Security is flexible when the stakes are high, old friend. And we are old friends, aren't we? Or at least, partners in a very expensive sinking ship."
I was standing near the bookshelf with a stack of fresh linens, freezing in place. I could feel the invisible barrier of privacy shattering around us. Julian glanced over at me, his eyes lingering on my gray t-shirt and plaid pants with undisguised contempt. "Ah. I see the standard of care has dropped to community theater. Who's this? The new nursemaid?"
"She's my caregiver, Julian, and she's currently working," Jonah said, his voice dropping into a lethal, quiet register that made my spine tingle. "Pick up your folder and get out before I let Frankie show you how well our security works on the way down."
Julian didn't flinch, but his smile tightened into a thin line. He leaned over the marble desk, invading Jonah's space in a blatant display of physical intimidation. "You can't sit up here forever, Jonah. The board meets on Friday. If you don't sign these restructuring papers, everything your father built—everything you crawled out of the wreckage to protect—goes to liquidation. You're finished."
Before Jonah could form a response, I stepped forward. I didn't raise my voice, and I didn't rush. I walked straight up to the edge of the desk, reached down, picked up Julian's leather portfolio by the corner as if it were a bag of garbage, and dropped it squarely onto the floor by his Italian leather shoes.
May you like
Julian gasped, jerking upright, his face flushing a mottled red. "What the hell do you think you're doing, girl?"
"Mr. Navarro is off duty," I said evenly, looking him dead in the eye. "And visiting hours for toxic personalities ended twenty minutes ago. If you don't pick up your folder and walk yourself back into that elevator, I'm going to call building security and report a trespasser in medical quarantine. Try me."
