The receptionist hesitated, then reluctantly made the call. She hung up, her confusion deepening. “Lilian says… you can take the elevator to the top floor.” Her tone suggested he must be some sort of delivery guy or a contractor, certainly not someone important.
Michael simply nodded and walked toward the private executive elevator.
The secretary on the top floor invited Michael into Lilian’s sprawling office.
Lilian stood to greet her visitor. Her perfect smile was in place but when her eyes landed on the casually dressed, slightly roughed-up young man, she was confused.
“Good morning,” she began, her tone polite but reserved, “How can I—”
Michael cut her off. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a sleek, black card which was a gift from his father.
It was engraved with the
