Chapter 2: The Address
833 Words
Zoe didn’t go home.
She clocked out at 3:17 PM, hands still smelling like bleach and lemon cleaner, and stood in the parking lot staring at her phone. The email was still open.
Come alone. Tell no one. 1847 Wicker Park Ave.
She should delete it. It was probably a scam. Grandpa James had been dead for three years. Three years of hospital bills she couldn’t pay, of working double shifts, of ramen for dinner. Dead men didn’t send emails.
But “inheritance” and “tomorrow 9AM” were real words. And she had nothing to lose except $13 an hour.
By 8:30 AM the next day, Zoe was on the bus. She wore her only black dress. The one from her mom’s funeral. It was tight in the shoulders now, and she kept tugging at the hem.
1847 Wicker Park Ave wasn’t in a bad part of town. It was in the part of town. Glass towers. Valet parking. A fountain out front with water that probably cost more than her monthly rent.
Her stomach dropped.
The building was called The Reed Tower. Gold letters. 40 floors. A security guard at the door looked at her dress, her worn-out shoes, and then back at his screen.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m here to see Marcus Reed. Attorney Marcus Reed. 9 AM.”
His eyebrows went up. “Name?”
“Zoe Carter.”
He typed. Then he stared at her. Really stared. “Floor 38. Reed & Associates. They’re expecting you.”
The elevator was all glass and mirrors. Zoe watched herself go up. 38 floors. Her ears popped. Her heart was doing something stupid in her chest.
The doors opened to marble. White marble floors, white couches, a receptionist who looked like she was in a magazine.
“Ms. Carter?” the receptionist smiled. “Mr. Reed will see you now.”
Marcus Reed wasn’t what Zoe expected. He was maybe 45, suit that cost more than her car, but he had kind eyes. Tired eyes. Like he hadn’t slept.
“Ms. Carter. Please, sit.” He gestured to a chair across from a desk the size of her apartment.
Zoe sat. Her hands were sweating.
“I’ll be direct,” he said. “Your grandfather, James Carter, was my client for 22 years.”
Zoe nodded. “He was a mechanic.”
Marcus smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yes. And he was also the majority shareholder of Carter Holdings International.”
The room went quiet.
“...What?”
“Carter Holdings. A private investment firm. Real estate, tech, shipping. Your grandfather built it from nothing in the 80s. He never told anyone. Not even you.”
Zoe laughed. It came out wrong. High and broken. “That’s... that’s not possible. He fixed cars. In a garage. With oil under his nails.”
“He did,” Marcus said softly. “And he was very good at both.”
He slid a folder across the desk. Thick. Heavy. Her name was on it. Zoe Carter, Sole Beneficiary.
“Inside is proof of ownership. 51% of Carter Holdings. Estimated value...” He paused. “As of this morning, 4.7 billion dollars.”
Zoe couldn’t breathe.
4.7 billion.
She made $13 an hour.
That was 361 million hours of work.
“That can’t be right,” she whispered.
“It is,” Marcus said. “But there are conditions. Your grandfather was very specific.”
“Conditions?”
“One: You cannot sell any shares for 5 years. Two: You must take an active role in the company. Board meetings. Decisions. Three: You cannot tell anyone outside of this office who you are. Not yet. There are... people who will be very interested in this.”
Zoe opened the folder. Stock certificates. Legal documents. Photos of her grandpa in a suit she’d never seen him wear, standing next to buildings, next to presidents.
Her hands shook.
“Why me?” she asked. “He had no one else?”
“You were the only one he trusted,” Marcus said. “He said, ‘When I’m gone, give it to Zoe. She’ll know what to do with it.’”
Outside the window, the city looked different now. It looked like it could be hers.
Marcus closed the folder. “You have 24 hours to decide. Sign, and you become CEO of a 4.7 billion dollar empire. Walk away, and it goes to charity.”
Zoe stood up. Her legs felt like water.
“I need to think,” she said.
“You do that,” Marcus replied. “But Ms. Carter? Be careful who you talk to. The moment this is public, your life changes forever. And not everyone will be happy about it.”
As Zoe walked out of the office, her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
We know you were at Reed Tower. We should talk. A
She froze in the hallway.
Someone was watching.
- Writer
