Chapter 3: The Text From A
600 Words
Zoe stood in the hallway of Reed Tower for a full minute, staring at her phone.
We know you were at Reed Tower. We should talk. -A
Her first thought was to block the number. Her second thought was to call Marcus Reed and ask if he sent it. Her third thought was to run.
But running hadn’t helped her pay rent last month. Running hadn’t brought her mom back. Running hadn’t made $13 an hour feel like enough.
She didn’t reply.
Instead, she took the elevator down, walked out of the glass building, and got on the bus like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just been told she was worth 4.7 billion dollars.
The bus was loud and hot and smelled like wet seats. No one on it knew. No one cared.
That was good. That was safe.
Her phone buzzed again at 6:42 PM. Same unknown number.
We can help you. Don’t sign anything yet. Meet me. Tonight. 9 PM. The diner on 5th and Lake. Come alone.
Zoe’s hands shook. Again.
Help? From who? The same person who was watching her leave Reed Tower?
She should ignore it. Marcus said to be careful. He said not everyone would be happy.
But what if “A” knew something about her grandfather? What if “A” could explain why James Carter, a mechanic, owned half a global empire?
At 8:55 PM, Zoe was sitting in a booth at the 5th and Lake Diner. It was 24 hours. Neon lights. Coffee that tasted like burnt rubber. She ordered nothing.
9:00 came and went.
9:05.
At 9:07, the door opened and a woman walked in.
She was about 30, sharp blazer, dark hair in a ponytail. She looked like she worked in the Reed Tower too. She scanned the diner, saw Zoe, and slid into the booth across from her.
“You’re Zoe Carter,” the woman said. No question.
“Who are you?” Zoe asked.
“Name’s Avery. And I worked for your grandfather.”
Zoe frowned. “He was a mechanic.”
Avery laughed. It wasn’t a nice laugh. “Right. And I’m a barista.”
She put a USB drive on the table and slid it across.
“Inside is everything Carter Holdings doesn’t want you to see. Contracts. Offshore accounts. The reason your grandfather faked being poor for 20 years.”
Zoe didn’t touch it. “Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because if you sign those papers tomorrow, you’ll be CEO of a company built on blood money,” Avery said quietly. “And because I think you deserve to know what you’re inheriting before you decide.”
The diner felt too small suddenly.
“Why should I trust you?” Zoe asked.
“You shouldn’t,” Avery said. “But you also shouldn’t trust Marcus Reed. He wasn’t just your grandfather’s lawyer. He was his partner. And he’s been moving money around since the funeral.”
Zoe’s stomach dropped.
Avery stood up. “USB. 9 PM. That’s all I’m saying. If you want to live past next week, don’t go to that board meeting alone.”
And then she was gone.
Zoe sat there, the USB burning a hole in the table between them.
Her phone buzzed one more time.
Marcus Reed: Ms. Carter, just checking in. See you at 9 AM tomorrow to sign? I’ve cleared my whole day for you.
Two messages. Two choices.
Sign and become CEO.
Or plug in the USB and risk everything.
Outside, it started to rain.
Zoe picked up the USB.
- Writer
