Victoria stared at the screen.
The reflection was distorted—pixelated, grainy, barely visible. But she knew what she was looking at. A woman with dark hair, a navy blazer, and a familiar way of standing.
It looked like her.
But it wasn't.
The video was three years old. Three years ago, Victoria had been in Ohio, working as a freelance consultant, trying to rebuild her life. She'd never been in Meridian Group's offices until last week.
Someone had disguised themselves as her.
Or someone wanted her to look guilty.
She grabbed her phone and called Nathaniel. No answer.
She called again. Voicemail.
She stood up and walked to the door. The hallway was empty. The elevator doors were closed.
"Nathaniel?" she called out.
No response.
She walked toward the stairwell. The door was propped open with a fire extinguisher. Inside, she heard footsteps. Running.
She pushed the door open and ran up the stairs.
Forty-seventh floor. Forty-eighth. Forty-ninth. The roof access door was unlocked.
She burst onto the roof.
The wind was brutal. The city stretched out below her, gray and indifferent. And there, at the edge of the building, stood Nathaniel.
Alone.
"Where did they go?" Victoria shouted over the wind.
Nathaniel turned to face her. His expression was strange. Not scared. Not angry.
Resigned.
"There's no one here, Victoria."
"I saw them. The hoodie. The watch."
"I know." He walked toward her, slowly. "I've been seeing them too. For years."
"What are you talking about?"
He stopped a few feet away from her. Close enough to touch. Close enough to hurt.
"Richard Chan didn't steal that money," he said. "I did."
Victoria felt the world tilt beneath her feet.
"You're lying."
"I wish I was." He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket. The same kind Alice May had received. "Open it."
She took the envelope with trembling hands. Inside was a single sheet of paper.
A confession. Signed by Nathaniel Cross. Dated three years ago.
"I, Nathaniel Cross, embezzled $86.4 million from Meridian Group between 2018 and 2021. Richard Chan was my accomplice. He threatened to expose me. I had him killed."
Victoria looked up at him. The wind whipped her hair across her face.
"Did you?"
Nathaniel's eyes were wet. From the wind, she told herself. Not from tears.
"No," he said. "But someone wants everyone to think I did."
"Then why do you have this?"
"Because I found it in Richard's safe deposit box. The same one Elena said was empty. It wasn't empty. Someone put this there after he died."
"To frame you?"
"To frame me. And to make sure whoever found it would believe it."
Victoria looked at the confession again. The handwriting was neat, precise. Not Nathaniel's. She'd seen his handwriting on the liquidation report ten years ago. This was different.
"Who wrote this?"
"I don't know. But I know why they want me gone."
"Why?"
Nathaniel took a step closer. His voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"Because I found out what Project Chimera really is. It's not a company. It's not a theft ring. It's a blackmail network. Senators, judges, CEOs—twelve people on that list you found. And whoever is running it has been controlling them for years."
"And you're on the list."
"I'm on the list because I refused to play along. So they're destroying me. One piece at a time."
Victoria looked at the confession in her hands. Then at Nathaniel's face.
"If you're telling the truth, we need proof."
"I have proof. But it's not here. It's in a place only Richard knew about."
"Where?"
Nathaniel took her hand. His fingers were cold.
"Are you sure you want to know? Because once you do, you can't go back. They'll come after you too."
Victoria looked down at their hands. His, wrapped around hers. She thought about her father. About the bankruptcy. About ten years of running from a past she couldn't escape.
"I've been running for ten years," she said. "I'm tired of running."
Nathaniel nodded slowly. He let go of her hand and walked back toward the roof access door.
"Then follow me."
Victoria looked out at the city one last time. The wind had died down. The clouds were breaking.
She followed him inside.