Chapter 2 - THE MEDICAL FILE

The brass key felt heavy and cold against my palm.

“My father died ten years ago,” I said, staring at the grooves of the metal. “His lawyer swore this box was lost. If someone mailed this to you… they wanted you to find what was inside.”

“Who?” Violet asked, rocking Celeste gently in her arms.

“I don't know,” I said. “But we are going to find out.”

I immediately called my head of security, ordering a detail to stand guard outside the penthouse door. No one was to enter. No one was to leave.

I left Violet and my daughter in the safest place in Chicago and drove straight to First National Bank.

The bank manager, a nervous man who knew exactly how much money Valiant Holdings kept in his vault, escorted me down to the secure basement without a word.

He left me alone in the sterile, steel-lined room.

I slid the brass key into box 814.

It turned with a heavy click.

I pulled the long metal drawer out and set it on the viewing table.

Inside was a single leather-bound journal. My father’s handwriting filled the pages.

I opened it to the very last entry, dated the day before he died of a sudden, massive heart attack.

“The new flagship drug trials are a failure. The mortality rate is being buried by Marcus. If I don't go to the FDA tomorrow, people will die. I am drafting the termination papers for Marcus Sterling tonight.”

My breath stopped.

My father hadn't died of natural causes.

Marcus had murdered him to protect the company's stock price, and then played the grieving mentor to manipulate me into taking over.

But beneath the journal was something else. A thick stack of printed emails.

I flipped through them. They were recent. From six months ago.

They were between Marcus and the chief medical officer of the hospital we had just left.

“The girl is pregnant. Valiant cannot know. If she stays, she is a liability to the merger. Use the signature stamp. Freeze her out. Make sure the child never becomes an heir.”

Marcus hadn't just tried to get rid of Violet. He had orchestrated her complete erasure to ensure my absolute focus on the upcoming German merger—a merger that would make Marcus billions.

I shoved the journal and the emails back into the box, grabbed it, and stormed out of the bank.

I had enough evidence to put Marcus in federal prison for the rest of his life.

But when I stepped out of the private elevator into my penthouse, the security guard I had stationed outside the door was gone.

My heart hammered against my ribs.

“Violet!” I shouted, dropping the metal box onto the floor.

I ran into the living room.

Violet was backed against the floor-to-ceiling windows, clutching Celeste tightly to her chest, her face pale with terror.