My cheap polyester suits stayed in the trash bags. The silk lining of a custom Tom Ford suit moved easily against my skin, and the cut fit without pinching at the shoulders or waist. From my office on the 88th floor of the Sterling Tower, I could see traffic backed up six blocks below. No one here asked me to stay out of sight.
Julian Vance knocked once and came in. He was tall, with kind eyes and none of Liam's need to dominate a room. He was my family's most trusted executive, and he had already become the person I relied on most at Sterling. When I spoke, he listened instead of checking the room for someone more important.
He placed a tablet on my desk. "Miss Sterling. The final projections for Walker Industries."
The charts were red from top to bottom. My code was offline, and the c
