Chapter 3

Inside the massive corner office just beyond the double doors on the sixty-eighth floor, Dorsey Russo stood before the glass wall, rolling Jannie's scuffed employee badge between his long fingers.

Fed walked in, placed the contract on the mahogany desk, and bowed his head slightly. "Mr. Russo, the file is here. Also, we confirmed the badge belongs to Jannie Terry, an assistant in the branch finance department."

Dorsey turned around and slapped the plastic card onto the desktop, his ice-blue eyes glinting. "Throwing a hundred and fifty bucks at me... she's got nerve." He loosened his silk tie an inch. "Fed, use every channel we have. Run a complete background check on Jannie Terry and everyone she knows. I want to know if someone put her up to this."

"Right away, sir."

Sixty-four floors below, Jannie walked back into the HR office completely unaware of the net closing around her. Before she could reach her desk, the HR supervisor intercepted her and pointed toward the storage room, where a dozen freshly delivered crates of old invoices sat stacked to the ceiling.

"These need to be manually cross-checked and logged before you leave tonight," the supervisor said flatly.

Jannie's jaw tightened. Her arms and back were already screaming from the morning's workload, and a sheen of cold sweat broke out across her forehead as she lifted the first heavy crate.

Eulalie strolled past with a fresh mug of coffee and swung her foot out, kicking a tall stack of sorted folders off a low stool. Paper exploded across the floor like confetti.

"Clumsy me," Eulalie chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. "If you're going to do grunt work, move faster. Stop dragging down our department's efficiency like a parasite."

Two nearby clerks exchanged amused glances and turned back to their screens.

Jannie knelt on the dusty floor, her throat burning as she stacked the folders one by one. Standing up, she met her stepsister's gaze evenly.

"At least I earn my paycheck," Jannie said, her voice quiet but cutting. "You got yours by keeping the HR manager's bed warm. So before you call anyone a parasite, take a long look in the mirror."

Eulalie's face darkened. "We'll see how long you can keep that attitude up!" She spun on her red heels and stalked off.

For the next three hours, Jannie hauled, sorted, and typed inside the stuffy archive room without a sip of water. The lingering hangover combined with sheer exhaustion made the room spin. A strange, heavy cramping sensation tugged low in her abdomen. She leaned against a cold metal filing cabinet, pressing her thumb into her temple to force her vision to clear.

At eight-thirty, she slotted the final binder onto the shelf and massaged her stiff wrist. As she walked back to her desk to grab her coat, her cell phone buzzed violently against the wood.

Her mother Debra Solomon's name flashed on the screen. Jannie swiped to answer. "Mom?"

Debra's hysterical sobs tore through the speaker. "Jannie! Get to Manhattan Private Hospital right now! Your grandfather just had a massive heart attack—he's dying!"

The blood drained from Jannie's face. Snatching her bag, she bolted out of the office, sprinted through the lobby doors, and flagged down a yellow cab on the curb.