Chapter 2 - The Note on the 84th Floor
Damen knelt on the cold marble floor, his heart pounding against his ribs in a way no billion-dollar negotiation ever had. He reached out with trembling fingers, carefully easing the damp, tightly folded piece of paper from the toddler’s sleeping fist.
The child stirred, letting out a soft sigh, but her eyes remained closed. She drifted back into the deep, heavy exhaustion of a four-year-old who had spent hours waiting in the dark.
Damen unfolded the paper under the pale fluorescence of the executive corridor. The paper was creased, smudged with water stains—tears, he realized with a chill—and written in a hasty, desperate script.
Damen,
If you are reading this, I have failed to keep them at bay any longer. Maya is sitting outside your door because you are the only man alive with the power, the resources, and the bloodline to keep her alive.
She is Ethan’s daughter.
Your brother did not die in a solo pilot error five years ago. He was murdered by Marcus Sterling after discovering the offshore slush funds stealing billions from Cole Global. Before Ethan died, he hid me and our unborn daughter away, swearing me to secrecy until Maya was old enough to be safe.
Three years ago, when your father passed, I took a job as your midnight cleaning staff. I needed to watch over you from the shadows, to make sure Sterling hadn't compromised you too. Maya is your blood, Damen. She is a Cole.
Sterling found out about us tonight. His men caught me on the 70th floor. I lured them toward the south stairwell to give Maya time to reach your door. The key to Ethan's encrypted flash drive is hidden beneath the false bottom of my cleaning cart. Protect your niece. Do not trust building security.
Sophia
Damen stared at the words, the world around him tilting on its axis.
Ethan. His younger brother. The bright, sharp-witted boy who had died in a private plane crash five years ago—a tragedy that had shattered Damen’s soul and turned him into a cold, unyielding workaholic who buried himself in concrete and glass.
All these years, Damen had believed his brother’s death was a cruel twist of fate. But it was murder. And the woman who had quietly scrubbed his office floors every night for three years was Ethan’s secret widow—guarding a four-year-old girl who carried the Cole bloodline.
A sharp, metallic ding echoed down the long hallway.
Damen snapped his head toward the express elevator bank at the end of the corridor. The red light above Elevator 3 illuminated. Someone was coming up to the 84th floor without a scheduled security clearance.
Damen didn't hesitate. He slipped the note into his inner jacket pocket, reached down, and lifted little Maya gently into his arms. She was impossibly light, her small head collapsing against his neck with complete trust, her warm breath hitting his collarbone.
May you like
He sprinted toward the cleaning cart near the service stairs, pulled open the bottom shelf beneath the lemon polish bottles, and felt a small, raised latch. Pushing it, a hidden panel popped open, revealing a heavy black steel drive stamped with two familiar initials: E.C.
Damen grabbed the drive, tucked Maya securely against his chest, and used his master keycard to retreat into his private office suite just as the heavy elevator doors slid open at the far end of the hall.
