Chapter 9: The Glass Tower
The elevator doors slid open with a soft ding, and I stepped into chaos.
Papers flew through the air like snow. A man in a dark suit ran past me, shouting into his phone. Someone dropped a box of files right in front of the reception desk, and the sound echoed through the marble lobby like a gunshot.
My heart hammered in my chest. This was supposed to be my fresh start. My normal job. But nothing about this felt normal.
"You must be Lucia!" A woman with red glasses rushed toward me, her heels clicking fast against the floor. She grabbed my arm before I could even answer. "Thank God you're here. I'm Patricia, Mr. Moretti's assistant. Well, his other assistant now. You're going to help me because I'm drowning."
She pulled me toward the elevator before I could say hello. My hands felt sweaty. I'd practiced what to say all morning, but now my mind went blank.
"Is it always like this?" I asked as we rode up to the fifteenth floor.
Patricia laughed, but it didn't sound happy. "Only when we're closing big deals. Or when someone messes up. Or when Mr. Moretti is in a bad mood." She paused. "So yes, always."
The elevator opened to a quieter floor. The hallway stretched long and bright, with glass walls showing offices on both sides. Everything looked expensive and clean. Too clean. Like nobody actually worked here.
"Your desk is right outside Mr. Moretti's office," Patricia said, walking so fast I had to jog to keep up. "You'll answer his calls, manage his calendar, and organize his files. Simple stuff."
Simple. Right. Nothing about Dante Moretti was simple.
We turned a corner, and I saw it. A massive wooden door with gold handles. Dante's name was printed on a small plaque. My stomach twisted into knots.
"He's in a meeting right now," Patricia whispered. "So we have maybe ten minutes before he needs something. Let me show you the system."
She sat me down at a desk that was bigger than my bed at home. Three computer screens blinked to life. A phone with at least twenty buttons sat next to a stack of folders.
"This screen shows his calendar," Patricia said, pointing. "This one is for emails. This one is for security feeds."
"Security feeds?" My voice came out squeaky.
"Just the main entrances and parking garage. Standard stuff." She clicked a few buttons, and suddenly I was looking at cameras showing different parts of the building. "Don't worry about it too much. Just keep an eye out for anything weird."
Everything about this felt weird.
Patricia spent the next few minutes explaining passwords and phone codes and filing systems. My head spun with information. She talked so fast that I barely caught half of it.
"Questions?" she asked.
About a million. But I just shook my head.
"Great! I'll be three doors down if you need me. Good luck!" She hurried away before I could stop her.
I sat alone at the desk, staring at the screens. The phone rang, making me jump. I grabbed it on the third ring.
"Mr. Moretti's office," I said, trying to sound professional.
"Is he available?" A man's voice, rough and impatient.
I glanced at the closed door. "He's in a meeting."
"Tell him Marco called. It's urgent."
The line went dead before I could ask for more information. I wrote down the message with shaking hands.
The morning crawled by. I answered twelve more calls. I sorted through three stacks of files. I figured out how to work the coffee machine when someone asked for espresso. Nobody told me I'd be making coffee, but apparently, that was part of the job too.
Around noon, Dante's door opened. Three men in suits walked out, their faces serious. Dante stood in the doorway, and his eyes found mine immediately.
"Lucia." His voice was calm, but something in it made my spine straighten. "My office. Now."
I stood up too fast and nearly knocked over my coffee. Heat rushed to my face as I followed him inside.
His office was huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the whole city. A desk the size of a car sat in the middle. Everything was black and white and sharp angles.
"Close the door," he said.
I did, and suddenly the room felt smaller. Dante leaned against his desk, arms crossed. He studied me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
"How's your first day?"
"Good," I lied. "Fine. Everything's fine."
His mouth twitched like he didn't believe me. "Patricia showing you the ropes?"
"Yes. She's been really helpful."
"Good." He picked up a folder from his desk. "I need you to file this. But I want you to read it first."
I took the folder. It felt heavy. "Read it?"
"Every page. Then we'll talk about what you learned."
That was strange. Patricia said I just needed to organize files, not read them. But I nodded anyway.
"You can use the conference room next door," Dante said. "Take your time."
I left his office, confused but relieved to get away from his intense stare. The conference room was empty and quiet. I sat down and opened the folder.
Numbers. Page after page of numbers and names and dates. It looked like financial records. Payments going in and out. Some of the amounts made my eyes go wide. Fifty thousand dollars. Hundred thousand. Two hundred thousand.
I was about to close the folder when I heard voices. They came from the wall—no, from the air vent above me. Voices from Dante's office, traveling through the ventilation system.
I should've left. I knew that. But I froze, listening.
"The shipment arrives Thursday," a man said. I didn't recognize the voice. "But we've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?" That was Dante, cold and sharp.
"Someone's been talking. One of the dock workers. He knows too much."
Silence. Then Dante spoke again. "Eliminate the problem."
My blood turned to ice.
"You sure?" the other man asked.
"Completely sure. I want it done before Thursday. No witnesses. No trail. Make it look like an accident."
"Understood."
Footsteps. The door opening and closing. My hands shook so hard that the folder slipped from my lap, papers scattering across the floor.
Eliminate the problem. Make it look like an accident.
They were going to kill someone.
I dropped to my knees, scrambling to pick up the papers. My breath came in short gasps. I had to get out of here. I had to tell someone. But who? The police? What would I even say?
The conference room door opened behind me.
I spun around, papers clutched to my chest.
Dante stood in the doorway, his dark eyes locked on mine. And from the look on his face, he knew exactly what I'd heard.
"Lucia," he said softly. "We need to talk."