Chapter 2: Red Flags and Warnings
Claire rushed down the dark street, holding her bag tightly. The key felt heavy in her pocket, like it held the weight of secrets. A cold wind whipped her hair across her face as she glanced over her shoulder. The feeling of being watched prickled at the back of her neck.
There is a black car, moving slowly half a block behind her. Its headlights were off.
Claire's heart hammered against her ribs. She ducked into a busy diner, pushing past waiting customers to the back where a bright exit sign glowed. She burst through the door into an alley and ran, ignoring the yells behind her.
Three blocks later, lungs burning, she stopped to catch her breath. No sign of the car. Claire pulled out her phone with shaking hands and called the one person she trusted.
"Olivia? I need help."
Twenty minutes later, Claire fell onto Olivia Carter's couch, her legs still shaking. Olivia's apartment was everything Claire's wasn't—spacious, stylish, and filled with bright colors that matched her friend's fiery red hair.
"You look terrible," Olivia said, giving Claire a glass of wine. "What happened?"
Claire took a gulp. "I went to Dad's old building."
"On his birthday? Claire, we talked about this. You need to let go."
"I can't. Not until I know the truth." Claire pulled the key from her pocket. "I found this hidden in his office."
Olivia leaned forward, her green eyes widening. "A key? To what?"
"I don't know yet. But I'm not the only one looking for whatever it opens. There were men searching the building."
"Men? What men?"
"I don't know. They nearly caught me." Claire shivered, remembering how close she'd come to being found. "And someone followed me afterward."
Olivia's face paled. She grabbed Claire's hands. "This has gone too far. You need to throw that key away and forget about all of this."
"I can't just—"
"Yes, you can!" Olivia's voice rose. "Your father's gone, Claire. Nothing will bring him back. Is this worth risking your life for?"
Claire pulled her hands away. "You don't understand. You've never lost everything."
Olivia's face softened. "No, I haven't. But I've almost lost you, and that would be worse than anything."
That night, Claire slept on Olivia's couch, the key tucked safely under her pillow. Her dreams were a jumble of dark passageways and shadowy figures chasing her through the abandoned halls of Hart Industries.
She woke at dawn, her alarm blaring. Another day, another round of jobs. As she gathered her things, Olivia emerged in the doorway, wrapped in a silk robe.
"Call in sick," Olivia offered, yawning. "After last night, you deserve a break."
Claire shook her head. "Can't afford it. But thanks for letting me crash."
"Stay another night. I don't like the idea of you going back to your place if someone followed you."
"I'll be fine," Claire insisted, though she wasn't certain.
Olivia frowned. "At least let me drive you to work."
On the way to the bakery, Olivia kept looking in the rearview mirror. "I don't think anyone's following us," she said eventually.
Claire nodded, relief washing over her. In the light of day, last night's fears seemed faraway. Maybe she'd imagined the car.
"I need to ask you something," Olivia said as they stopped at a red light. "Yesterday, at the hotel—did you see anyone... unusual?"
Claire stiffened. "Like who?"
"I don't know. Anyone important. Anyone who might be related to your dad's company."
The picture of Damian Blackwood flashed in Claire's mind—tall, strong, cold. "Damian Blackwood checked in," she admitted. "Why?"
Olivia's knuckles whitened on the driving wheel. "Listen to me, Claire. Stay away from the Blackwoods. They're dangerous."
"I know that better than anyone."
"No, you don't." Olivia turned to face her, green eyes fierce. "They destroy people who get in their way. Your father isn't the only one they've destroyed."
The light turned green, but Olivia didn't move until the car behind them honked. "Promise me you'll stay away from them."
"I can't promise that if I want to find out what happened to Dad."
Olivia sighed. "Then at least be careful. Don't let them see you coming."
Claire studied her friend's face. "You know something about them, don't you?"
Olivia paused, then shook her head. "Just stories. But in their world, stories are generally true."
At the bakery, Olivia squeezed Claire's hand. "We'll figure out what that key opens. Together. But please, don't do anything stupid."
Claire nodded, though a plan was already forming in her mind.
After her shift at the bakery, instead of going to La Belle, Claire took the subway downtown to the business area. Fifteen minutes later, she stood outside the towering glass tower of First National Bank.
Her father had kept an account here. If the key opened a safe deposit box, this would be the place to start.
Inside, the marble floors gleamed under crystal lighting. Claire approached the front desk, suddenly aware of her flourdusted clothes and messy hair.
"I'd like to access a safe deposit box," she told the receptionist. "It was my father's—Richard Hart."
The woman's neatly shaped eyebrows rose. "Do you have the paperwork?"
"No, but I have the key and my ID. My father passed away two years ago."
Twenty minutes and several forms later, Claire sat in a private viewing room, looking at a metal box. Her hands trembled as she inserted the key. It fit. She turned it, and the lock clicked.
Inside lay a single paper package. Claire opened it and pulled out a stack of papers—financial records, contracts, and a scribbled letter addressed to her.
My dearest Clairebear,
If you're reading this, I'm gone, and you've found the key I left behind. I'm sorry for leaving you, but some loads are too big to carry. The papers in this box show what I could never prove in life—that Blackwood Enterprises deliberately sabotaged Hart Industries through fraud, market manipulation, and corporate espionage.
I trusted Amelia Blackwood. She was my friend, or so I thought. But she and her son organized my downfall to eliminate competition and seize control of inventions that should have been mine.
The proof is all here, but be careful. The Blackwoods have strong friends in high places. Trust no one except yourself.
I love you always,
Dad
Claire's view blurred with tears. She flipped through the documents—internal memos, bank records, proof of shell companies used to short Hart Industries stock. It was all here, just as her father had said.
She gathered the papers, her mind running. These were enough to ruin the Blackwoods, to reveal their crimes to the world. But how? She couldn't afford a lawyer. The media wouldn't listen to a nobody like her.
As Claire left the bank, she felt lighter despite the weight of the proof in her bag. Her father hadn't been anxious. His charges weren't fantasies. He'd been right all along.
Back on the street, Claire checked the time. She'd missed her shift at La Belle. Ricardo would be angry, possibly fire her. But for once, she didn't care.
She turned toward the train, then froze. Across the street, leaning against a sleek black car, stood a guy watching her. Tall, with dark hair and sharp features—the same man who'd followed her last night.
Claire's blood turned to ice. She ducked into the crowd, moving between walkers, her heart pounding. When she looked back, the man was crossing the street toward her.
She spotted a cab and waved furiously. It pulled over, and she jumped in.
"Where to, miss?" the driver asked.
Claire stopped. She couldn't go home—that would be the first place they'd look. She couldn't go to Olivia's—she'd already put her friend at risk. She needed somewhere safe, somewhere no one would look for her.
"Blackwood Tower," she said, the words out before she could stop them.
The driver nodded, pulling into traffic. In the side mirror, Claire saw the guy running toward the taxi, but they turned a corner and he disappeared from view.
Claire leaned back, holding her bag. She'd found the evidence she needed. Now she was going right into the lion's den. Damian Blackwood wouldn't know what hit him.
As the taxi neared the tall glass building, Claire's phone rang. Olivia's name showed on the screen.
"Where are you?" Olivia ordered when Claire answered. "Ricardo called me. He said you never showed up for work."
"I found something, Liv. Something big. Dad left proof against the Blackwoods in a safe deposit box."
Silence on the other end. Then, "Where are you going with it?"
"Blackwood Tower. I'm going to face Damian Blackwood himself."
"No!" Olivia's voice rose in fear. "Claire, stop. You can't just walk in there. They'll destroy you!"
"I have proof now. They can't touch me."
"Listen to me." Olivia's voice dropped to a whisper. "There's something I need to tell you about the Blackwoods, something important. Where are you exactly? I'll come get you."
Claire stopped. There was an odd note in Olivia's voice she'd never heard before—fear, yes, but something else too.
"I'm almost at Blackwood Tower," she said finally. "Meet me at the coffee shop across the street."
"Don't move. Don't talk to anyone. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
The call stopped, and Claire stared out the window as Blackwood Tower loomed closer. Something in Olivia's voice bothered her. What did her friend know about the Blackwoods that she wasn't saying?
The cab pulled up to the curb. Claire paid the driver and stepped out, the evidence bag clutched tightly against her chest. Across the street, Blackwood Tower rose like a fortress of glass and steel, a memorial to the power that had crushed her father.
As she turned toward the coffee shop, a black car screeched to a stop beside her. Before she could respond, a guy grabbed her arm. Not the same one who'd been following her—this one was younger, with cold blue eyes that looked oddly familiar.
"Miss Hart," he said with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "My name is Elias Blackwood. I believe you have something that belongs to my family."