Elena had been avoiding her father's office for days.
Even though it now technically belonged to her, his polished mahogany desk, the sweeping skyline view, the towering bookshelves lined with aging business manuals and vintage Roth Tech patents it still felt like trespassing. The portrait of her late grandfather hung behind the desk like a silent judge, eyes painted to follow her every move. That chair, the one her father had ruled from for over three decades, remained empty, and she refused to sit in it. Not yet.
But that morning, something in Liam's demeanor had changed.
He'd kissed her forehead absentmindedly before leaving, murmuring something about new security protocols and needing to recheck the server firewall. But his eyes hadn't met hers. There was a tightness in his shoulders, an undercurrent of something more than just work stress. And she had felt it too, the strange electricity humming beneath the calm, a sense that something was shifting, slowly but dangerously.
She found herself drawn back to the office before sunrise, cloaked in the quiet of early morning fog. The corridors were empty. The city below was only beginning to stir. She walked in without turning on the lights, letting the weak dawn light filter in through the blinds, slicing the room into jagged stripes of gray and gold.
The scent hit her first.
That same cologne earthy and subtle, like cedar and iron. It still clung to the room like memory. Her heart twisted painfully. She didn't want to cry again, not here. Not today. Her fingers hovered above the desk before she forced herself to begin opening drawers.
Top drawer. Pens, a leather-bound notebook with initials engraved in gold, a broken pocket watch she remembered him once calling "useless but loyal."
Second drawer. Neatly stacked documents, a single monogrammed cufflink, and a faded photo of her mother holding a younger version of herself. She paused there longer than she meant to. The photo looked worn at the edges, like it had been touched often.
The third drawer didn't budge.
Her brows pulled together. Her father rarely locked things he always claimed transparency was the strongest form of dominance. "If you know what I hold, then you know I'm not afraid to wield it," he'd once said.
And yet… This drawer was locked.
She crouched, running her fingers along the underside of the wood. Her hand stilled on a small groove, hidden so precisely it could've been missed a hundred times. She pressed. A soft click sounded as the lock disengaged.
Inside, nestled on a piece of black velvet, lay a brass key.
It wasn't modern. The kind of key that belonged to a safety deposit box or physical vault from another century. The teeth were jagged, notched in a way that looked ancient deliberate. Designed to be difficult to replicate.
Beneath it was a folded note. Yellowed slightly at the edges. Her name Elena written in her father's distinct handwriting across the front.
Her hand shook as she picked it up.
The paper felt heavier than it should. Thicker somehow, like it carried weight beyond its size. She opened it slowly, afraid of what she might find but more afraid not to.
> If you're reading this, then I'm gone, and I've failed to protect you from what's coming.
There are things even a Roth can't fight in the light.
You'll find the rest in the vault.
Use the key but only when you're ready to learn the cost of the empire you've inherited.
No location. No codes. No further explanation.
Just his name at the bottom. Dominic.
Elena blinked, trying to focus as the letter blurred in her vision. A chill crawled up her spine.
What vault? Where? And what could be so dangerous it required secrecy even after death?
She slowly sat down in her father's leather chair, feeling the cold pressure of the brass key in her palm. Her grip tightened around it instinctively.
The air in the office seemed to shift. The warmth of nostalgia vanished. What was once her father's sanctum now felt like a waiting room before a storm.
He had left something behind.
Something buried beneath the empire. A secret not meant to be discovered unless she was ready to pay its price.
She had thought she knew Dominic Roth. Though she had understood the man behind the legacy, the father behind the tycoon.
But the key told a different story.
And if he was warning her from beyond the grave… then someone else might be working just as hard to make sure she never found out what he left behind.
Whatever the cost, she had to find that vault.
Even if it shattered everything she believed about the man who raised her and the company she now led.