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Chapter 4 - The Gatekeeper

For a second, I just stood there in that crazy-big empty room, my brain totally blank. This wasn't the plan. The plan was the scary, powerful mafia king. Not... his librarian.

The woman stopped at the door and looked back at me, one eyebrow raised. She didn't say a word. She didn't have to. The look on her face said it all: Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there and gather dust?

I scrambled after her, my new heels clicking way too loud on the hard floor. I followed her through the door and into a small, plain office that was the complete opposite of the empty penthouse. This room was packed. Two huge monitors showed lines of code and news feeds from all over the world. A printer was humming quietly in the corner, spitting out paper. It smelled like coffee and serious business.

She sat behind a very organized desk and pointed to a simple chair in front of it. "Sit."

I sat. My heart was still going nuts. Who was this lady?

She folded her hands on the desk. "My name is Ms. Sterling. I manage Mr. Cruz's schedule, his security clearances, and," she paused, her eyes locking onto mine, "who gets five minutes of his time. So. Let's talk."

This was a test. I knew it in my bones. If I messed this up, I'd never get near him.

I straightened my spine, trying to look like I sat in front of scary ladies every day. "I told Mr. Cruz I had a business proposition."

"You sent a cryptic message to a private, secure channel," she corrected me, her voice flat. "That's not a proposition. That's a nuisance. The only reason you're here and not in a holding cell is because your 'free sample' checked out." She tapped her tablet. "Now. Who are you, and how did a teenager from a middling-wealth family know about Alexander Kaine's movements?"

The way she said "middling-wealth" was a total burn. My face got hot. She'd already dug up my whole life. Of course she had.

I couldn't tell the truth. Hey, I time-traveled from my deathbed! Yeah, right.

So I went for a half-truth. "I listen. People think I'm just... decoration. They say things in front of me they shouldn't. I hear things." I leaned forward a little. "I know more things. A lot more. Things that can help him."

Ms. Sterling didn't even blink. "What kind of things?"

"Things about my family. Their business. Their dirty secrets. The politicians they have in their pockets. The deals they're about to screw up." I took a breath. This was the big part. "I can be his eyes and ears on the inside. A weapon they'll never see coming."

She was quiet for a long time, just looking at me. I felt like a bug under a microscope. A very stupid, poorly dressed bug.

Then, a tiny, almost invisible smile touched her lips. It was not a nice smile. "A weapon," she repeated. "You're what, a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet? What exactly are you going to do? Bore his enemies to death with teenage gossip?"

A flash of anger burned through my fear. This lady was seriously getting on my nerves. "I'm not talking about hitting people," I shot back, my voice tighter than I meant it to be. "I'm talking about information. And I know the value of what I'm selling. I'm not some kid asking for an allowance."

The smile disappeared. She gave a slow nod, like I'd finally said something mildly intelligent. "What do you want in return?"

This was it. The whole point. "Protection. Training. And when the time comes, I want his help to ruin them. All of them."

She picked up a pen and started tapping it on her desk. Tap. Tap. Tap. It was the only sound in the room.

"Mr. Cruz doesn't employ amateurs," she said finally. "He doesn't run a charity for angry little girls with daddy issues."

The words hit me like a slap. I opened my mouth to fire back, but she held up a hand.

"However," she said, "he does invest in unique assets. If they can prove their worth."

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a single sheet of paper. She slid it across the desk toward me.

It wasn't a contract. It was a test.

"Your family is bidding on a city contract for the new waterfront development. They think it's in the bag. Their main rival is a company called Astra Developments. I want you to find me one piece of information. One thing that can sink your family's bid and hand the contract to Astra. Nothing illegal. No hacking. Just... listening." She looked over her glasses at me. "You have forty-eight hours. Bring me something useful. Then we'll talk about meetings."

Forty-eight hours. My mind was already racing. I could do this. I had to do this.

I picked up the paper. My hand was steady. "Okay."

"Good." She stood up, the meeting clearly over. "The elevator is where you left it. Don't call the number again. I'll be in touch."

I walked out of the office, through the giant empty penthouse, and back into the elevator. The doors closed. As it went down, I slumped against the wall, my whole body shaking. That was... intense.

I stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, feeling like I'd just run a marathon. I needed sugar. Now.

I spotted a food cart selling pretzels and practically ran over. "One pretzel, extra salt, please," I said, digging in my bag for money.

The vendor, a big guy with a friendly smile, handed me a huge, warm pretzel. "Rough day, kid?"

"You have no idea," I mumbled, taking a huge bite. It was so good.

"Heh. Whatever it is, a pretzel makes it better. That'll be four bucks."

I reached for my wallet. And then my blood went cold.

My wallet was gone.

I frantically patted my pockets, my new dress that had no pockets, and dug through my bag. Nothing. I must have left it in the dressing room when I changed. Or dropped it in the taxi. Panic shot through me. I was stranded downtown with no money, no ID, and no way home.

The vendor was still smiling, but it was starting to look a little strained. "Problem?"

"Um. I... I think I lost my wallet," I said, my face burning with embarrassment. I was a would-be weapon of destruction, and I couldn't even buy a pretzel.

His smile vanished. "Listen, lady, I ain't running a charity here."

"I know, I'm so sorry, I just—"

"Problem, Sal?"

A voice came from behind me. A deep, calm voice I recognized instantly.

I spun around.

Leaning against a sleek, black car parked illegally at the curb was Leonard Cruz. He was wearing a simple black suit, no tie, and sunglasses. He looked… bored.

The pretzel vendor's eyes went wide. "Mr. Cruz! Nah, no problem. It's all good."

Leonard pushed off the car and walked over. He didn't look at me. He pulled a money clip from his pocket, peeled off a hundred-dollar bill, and handed it to the vendor. "Keep the change."

He finally turned those sunglasses toward me. I couldn't see his eyes, but I could feel them.

"Get in the car," he said, his voice quiet. No room for argument.

Then he turned and got into the back seat of the car, leaving the door open.

I stood on the sidewalk, holding my stupid pretzel, my mouth hanging open. He'd been watching me the whole time.

The game had just changed completely.

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