Then I saw it.
It wasn't a hidden panel or a loose brick. It was a safe, but it wasn't hidden at all. It was built into the wall behind a display of handbags, sleek and digital.
I crawled over to it. The keypad glowed a soft blue.
I needed a six-digit code.
I tried Elena's birthday. Error
I tried Julian's birthday. Error.
I tried their wedding anniversary. Error.
"Think," I whispered. "If she was running away with Lucas..."
I grabbed the phone again and searched for Lucas Sterling's birthday. April 12th, 1991.
I typed in 041291.
Error.
"Damn it."
I sat there, staring at the keypad. The lockout timer would start after five attempts. I had one left.
What was important to them? What was the date she disappeared?
I checked the article about his death again. August 15th.
I typed in 081525.
Click.
The heavy steel door popped open with a pneumatic hiss.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I reached into the dark metal box.
It was almost empty. The three million dollars wasn't there. There were no stacks of cash, no diamonds.
There was only a small velvet pouch, the kind you get from a jewelry store.
I pulled it out. It was light. I loosened the drawstrings and tipped the contents into my palm.
Two things fell out.
One was a silver key, small and jagged, with a number stamped on the head: 304.
The other was a USB drive. It was sleek, metallic, and heavy for its size.
I held the drive up to the light. On the side, engraved in tiny letters, were initials.
J.T.
Julian Thorne.
This wasn't Elena's diary. This was Julian's data.
Why did she have it? And why did she lock it in a safe with the date of the crash as the code?
I stood up, clutching the drive and the key.
Elena hadn't just killed Lucas Sterling. She had stolen something from Julian. Something important enough to hide in a safe with a dead man's death day.
I heard footsteps in the bedroom.
Heavy, purposeful footsteps.
I froze. I was in the back of the closet. If I stayed quiet, maybe they would leave.
"Elena?"
It was Julian. And he sounded drunk.
"I know you're in there," he slurred slightly. "I saw the light under the door."
I shoved the USB drive and the key into my bra, the cold metal biting against my skin. I took a deep breath, smoothed my hair, and stepped out of the closet.
Julian was standing in the middle of the room. He had a bottle of scotch in one hand and a glass in the other. His tie was undone, hanging loosely around his neck. He looked wrecked.
"What do you want, Julian?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.
He looked at me, his eyes red-rimmed and glassy. He swayed slightly on his feet.
"I want to know," he whispered, stepping closer. "I want to know what you said to him."
"To who?"
"To Lucas," Julian said. The pain in his voice was raw, bleeding. "Before he died. Did you tell him you loved him? Or were you just using him like you use everyone else?"
He was close now. Too close. He smelled of smoke and sorrow.
"Julian, you're drunk," I said, backing away. "Go to sleep."
"Answer me!" he shouted, throwing the glass against the wall. It shattered, sending shards of crystal flying across the room.
I flinched, backing into the vanity table.
Julian lunged forward, pinning me against the wood. He didn't hit me. He just leaned his forehead against mine, his breathing ragged.
"Why are you still here?" he whispered, his voice breaking. "Why didn't you just die with him?"
His question hung in the air like smoke, toxic and choking.
Why didn't you just die with him?
I couldn't breathe. His forehead was resting against mine, his skin burning hot. I could see the individual lashes of his closed eyes, wet with unshed tears. For a moment, he wasn't the terrifying billionaire or the ruthless CEO.
He was just a man whose heart had been ripped out.
"I don't know," I whispered back. It was the only honest thing I could say.
Julian let out a long, shuddering breath. The fight seemed to drain out of him all at once, leaving him heavy and boneless. His grip on the vanity table loosened, and he swayed back, his eyes fluttering open. They were unfocused now, the grey irises swimming in a haze of alcohol and exhaustion.
"I hate you," he slurred, but there was no venom left in his voice. It sounded more like a plea. "I hate you so much."
"I know," I said softly.
He stumbled back, his legs finally giving out. He tried to catch himself on the edge of the bed but missed, sliding down the side of the mattress until he hit the floor with a heavy thud.
"Julian!"
I dropped to my knees beside him. He was sprawled on the thick carpet, one arm thrown over his eyes, his breathing slowing into a deep, rhythmic rhythm. He had passed out.
I sat there for a moment, watching him. This was the man who held my life in his hands. This was the man who could send me to prison with a single phone call. But right now, he looked harmless.
I sighed, realizing I couldn't just leave him on the floor.
It took all my strength to drag him up onto the bed. He was dead weight, heavy with muscle. I managed to get his legs onto the mattress and pulled the fur throw over him. I hesitated, then reached down and unlaced his dress shoes, pulling them off one by one.
"You're lucky I'm not really her," I muttered, placing his shoes by the door. "Elena would probably leave you there to rot."
I walked back to the vanity, my heart rate finally starting to slow.
The USB drive was still burning a hole against my skin.
I reached into my dress and pulled it out. The metal was warm from my body heat. I looked at the initials engraved on the side. J.T.
I needed to know what was on it.
I opened the top drawer of the desk where I had seen a sleek silver laptop earlier. I pulled it out and flipped it open. It was password protected, of course.
I tried the code I had used for the safe.
081525.
The screen unlocked.
My stomach did a flip. Elena used the date of her disappearance for everything. It was morbid, obsessive.
I plugged the USB drive into the side port.
A window popped up on the screen. There was only one folder. It was titled: PROJECT ICARUS.
I clicked it.
Inside were dozens of files. Spreadsheets, bank transfer records, and scanned emails. I opened a spreadsheet at random. It was a list of payments. Huge sums of money, millions of dollars, being transferred to an offshore account in the Cayman Islands.
The account name was simply: SILAS.
I gasped, clamping a hand over my mouth.
Silas. My handler. The man who bought my debt.
I quickly clicked on an email file. It was dated six months ago. From Silas to Julian.
Subject: The Problem.
Julian,
The leak has been contained, but the cost is rising. If the board finds out about the defective navigational systems on the new tanker fleet, the merger is dead. We need to bury the report. I can make the inspector disappear, but it will cost you another five million.
- S
I sat back, my head spinning.
This wasn't just about a cheating wife or a tragic accident. This was corporate sabotage. Silas wasn't just fixing a reputation, he was fixing a massive cover-up involving defective ships.
And Julian was paying him to do it.
I looked over at the bed where Julian was sleeping. He wasn't just a grieving friend. He was being blackmailed. Silas was bleeding him dry.
But then, another thought hit me.
If Silas was blackmailing Julian... why did he hire me to help Julian save the merger? If the merger succeeded, Julian would get richer, yes. But if the merger failed, Julian would be ruined.
Unless Silas wanted the merger to go through so he could steal even more.
I looked at the screen again. There was one more file at the bottom of the list. It wasn't a document. It was a video file.
Date: August 14th.
The day before Lucas died.
I hovered the cursor over the file. My finger trembled on the trackpad.
If I watched this, there was no going back. I would know too much.
I clicked play.