Kiss Me Tomorrow

Chapter 3

Lena's POV

By the time I reached the lobby, I had already decided three things.

First, Adrian Vale was impossible.

Second, I was going to need stronger coffee.

Third, I was absolutely not going to think about the fact that he had just told me my father wasn't guilty.

Unfortunately, the third decision lasted approximately thirty seconds.

I stepped through the revolving doors of Vale Industries and stopped on the sidewalk.

The city moved around me in its usual morning rhythm.

Cars pushed through traffic.

People hurried past with phones pressed against their ears.

A delivery cyclist nearly collided with a taxi and shouted something that made the taxi driver lean out of his window.

Everything was normal.

My life was not.

I tightened my grip on the folder beneath my arm.

Eleven years.

Eleven years of believing that my father's story had ended the way everyone said it had.

He stole from Vale Industries.

He was caught.

He disappeared.

My mother never spoke about it unless she had to.

And I had learned very early that there were some questions adults didn't want children asking.

So I stopped asking.

At least, I tried.

I looked down at the black folder.

Adrian had reopened a door I'd spent years keeping locked.

And somehow, he'd managed to make me angry enough to want answers.

I pulled out my phone.

There were three missed calls from my office.

I called back.

"Finally."

Mia's voice came through the moment she answered.

I smiled despite myself.

"Good morning to you too."

"Did you survive?"

"Apparently."

"That's disappointing."

I laughed.

"You're supposed to be my friend."

"I am your friend. That's why I'm disappointed that Adrian Vale didn't throw you out of a window."

"Mia."

"What?"

"I've been in his office for two hours."

"And?"

"And he's exactly as irritating as everyone says."

"Is he attractive?"

I closed my eyes.

"That's your first question?"

"Yes."

"No."

She was silent.

"Lena."

"What?"

"You've been my best friend for twelve years."

"Unfortunately."

"I know when you lie."

"I didn't lie."

"You hesitated."

"I was thinking."

"About whether he's attractive?"

"About whether I should block your number."

She laughed.

"He's attractive."

I started walking toward the parking garage.

"Fine."

"How attractive?"

"Annoyingly."

There was another pause.

"Oh."

"What?"

"That's bad."

"Why?"

"Because the ones you find annoyingly attractive are always the ones you eventually like."

"That has never happened."

"You liked Daniel."

"I was twenty."

"You wrote his name in your notebook."

"I was twenty."

"You wrote it with a heart."

"I said I was twenty."

Mia laughed again.

I unlocked my car.

"Anyway, I have work to do."

"Did you get the documents?"

"Some."

"Anything useful?"

I hesitated.

"Maybe."

Her voice immediately changed.

"What happened?"

I opened the car door but didn't get inside.

"Do you remember the Vale scandal from eleven years ago?"

Silence.

"Your father's case?"

I swallowed.

"Yes."

Mia knew better than anyone that I didn't like discussing it.

"What about it?"

"Adrian says my father wasn't guilty."

The silence that followed was heavier.

"Did he say that?"

"Yes."

"Why would he know?"

"That's the problem."

I looked back at the tower behind me.

Twenty-three floors of glass and steel.

Somewhere above me, Adrian Vale was probably already moving on to his next meeting.

I wondered if he understood what he'd done.

"There's something else," I said.

"What?"

"He has documents that aren't public."

"What kind of documents?"

"My father's."

Mia exhaled slowly.

"Are you sure?"

"I saw them."

"Then maybe you should walk away."

I frowned.

"From the job?"

"From all of it."

"I can't."

"You can."

"No, Mia. I can't."

"Why?"

Because I needed the promotion.

Because my career mattered.

Because I'd spent years building a life that had nothing to do with my father's disgrace.

Because if Adrian had evidence that could clear my father's name, I needed to know.

But I couldn't say any of that.

So I gave her the simplest answer.

"Because I want to know what happened."

She didn't argue.

She knew me too well.

"Be careful."

"I will."

"And Lena?"

"Yes?"

"Don't let him become the reason you forget why you took the job."

I smiled faintly.

"He won't."

I ended the call.

Then I sat behind the wheel and stared at the steering wheel for several seconds.

I had a feeling that was a promise I might regret.

---

My office was on the sixth floor of Hart & Rowe, a crisis-management firm that had made a name for itself by turning disasters into manageable headlines.

The building wasn't nearly as impressive as Vale Industries.

I preferred it that way.

I stepped off the elevator and immediately noticed the looks.

People knew I had gotten the Vale assignment.

They had been waiting to see what I would do with it.

My supervisor, Marcus Rowe, stood outside his office.

"Lena."

"Marcus."

"Come in."

I followed him.

His office smelled like coffee and expensive paper.

He closed the door.

"How was Vale?"

"Complicated."

He smiled.

"Good."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Good?"

"If you came back saying Adrian Vale was easy, I'd be worried."

I placed the folder on his desk.

"He gave me access to internal reports."

Marcus looked impressed.

"Already?"

"He doesn't make things easy."

"That's Adrian."

"You know him?"

"Professionally."

"How well?"

Marcus leaned against his desk.

"Well enough to know that if he gives you something, there's usually a reason."

My stomach tightened.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

He looked at the folder.

"What did he give you?"

"Financial records. Internal communications. Some background information."

I didn't mention my father's documents.

Not yet.

Marcus opened the folder.

"You're leading this alone."

I looked up.

"Alone?"

"With support from the research team."

"That's a big account."

"It is."

"Then why me?"

He smiled.

"Because you asked for it."

"I didn't ask for Vale."

"You asked for the promotion."

That stopped me.

Marcus closed the folder.

"Six months. If you stabilize the situation, you lead the account. If you turn it around completely, we discuss partnership."

Partnership.

The word hit harder than I expected.

This was what I'd been working toward.

Years of late nights.

Years of taking difficult accounts while other people received credit.

Years of being told I was talented but too young.

I wanted this.

I needed this.

"Understood."

Marcus nodded.

"One more thing."

"What?"

"Don't become emotionally involved."

I almost laughed.

"With Adrian?"

"With the case."

He gave me a pointed look.

"You're good at separating yourself from clients. Keep it that way."

I nodded.

"I will."

Another promise.

Another one I wasn't sure I'd keep.

---

By noon, I had three screens open, two cups of coffee beside me, and enough financial documents to make me question every decision I'd ever made.

The official story was simple.

A subsidiary of Vale Industries had reported a significant financial discrepancy eleven years ago.

My father, who had been working in the company's financial department, had been accused of manipulating internal records and transferring money.

He disappeared shortly afterward.

The case was never fully resolved.

Years later, the current scandal had brought the old accusations back into public conversation.

What didn't make sense was the timing.

I pulled up the current financial reports.

The recent leak showed suspicious transactions.

But the pattern didn't match the old case.

The old discrepancy had been deliberate.

The new one looked almost too clean.

I leaned back.

Someone wanted the public to believe the two cases were connected.

But why?

I opened another document.

There were several transactions made through subsidiaries I'd never heard of.

I wrote down the names.

Then I noticed something.

One of the companies had been established eight years ago.

Three years after my father's disappearance.

I searched for the director.

Nothing.

I searched again.

Still nothing.

Then I tried the company registration number.

The result appeared.

I stared at the screen.

The company had been dissolved two years ago.

But its last listed legal representative was—

I stopped.

A knock sounded on my glass door.

I minimized the screen.

"Come in."

A junior researcher stepped inside.

"Ms. Hart?"

"Yes?"

"These just came from Vale."

He placed a box on my desk.

I looked at it.

"What's that?"

"Documents."

"From Adrian?"

"I assume so."

He left.

I stared at the box.

For a moment, I considered ignoring it.

Then I opened it.

Inside were financial records, correspondence, old board reports, and several sealed envelopes.

I reached for the first envelope.

My name wasn't on it.

But the handwriting was familiar.

My heart stopped.

I knew that handwriting.

I'd seen it on birthday cards.

On notes left beside my breakfast.

On the shopping lists my father used to write when I was a child.

My fingers trembled.

I turned the envelope over.

There was no sender.

No date.

Nothing except a single word written across the front.

Lena.

I didn't open it immediately.

I couldn't.

Instead, I stared at it.

My father's handwriting shouldn't have been here.

He had been gone for eleven years.

Slowly, I reached for the envelope.

Then my phone rang.

I nearly dropped it.

The screen showed an unknown number.

I answered.

"Hello?"

No one spoke.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then a man's voice.

Low.

Distorted.

"You shouldn't have taken Adrian Vale's case."

My body went still.

"Who is this?"

"You don't know what you're getting into."

"Who are you?"

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone.

My heart was beating too fast.

I looked at the envelope again.

Then at the glass walls of my office.

People were moving outside.

Working.

Talking.

Laughing.

Nobody knew that my entire past had just walked back into my life.

I picked up the envelope.

There was only one thing left to do.

I opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

Three lines.

I read them once.

Then again.

My hands began to shake.

I didn't steal the money.

I was trying to protect you.

Don't trust the Vale family.

I stopped breathing.

At the bottom was a signature.

My father's.

For eleven years, I had believed the last words my father left me were goodbye.

Apparently, they weren't.

My phone rang again.

This time, the caller ID wasn't unknown.

Adrian Vale.

I stared at his name.

For a few seconds, I considered letting it ring.

Then I answered.

"Hello?"

His voice came through immediately.

"Lena."

Something in his tone made me sit straighter.

"What?"

"Where are you?"

"At the office."

"Are you alone?"

I frowned.

"Why?"

A pause.

Then, quietly:

"Because someone just tried to access the files I gave you."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

I looked down at the letter.

My father's handwriting stared back at me.

"Adrian."

"Yes?"

I swallowed.

"Did you know my father left me a letter?"

Silence.

Not the ordinary kind.

The kind that tells you the person on the other end of the phone already knows the answer.

"Adrian?"

His voice was quieter when he finally answered.

"No."

I looked at the letter again.

"Then why do I have one?"

Another pause.

"Read it to me."

I hesitated.

"Why?"

"Because if that letter is what I think it is, Lena..."

He stopped.

"What?"

His breathing changed.

And for the first time since I had met him, Adrian Vale sounded afraid.

"Lock your office door."

I stood.

"Adrian—"

"Now."

The call ended.

I stared at the phone.

Then slowly turned toward the glass door of my office.

Someone was standing on the other side.

A man I didn't recognize.

He wasn't looking at me.

He was looking directly at the letter in my hand.

And when our eyes met, he walked away.