Liam stood in front of the glass tower, adjusting his tie for the third ti in as many minutes.
The building was impressive—no, scratch that. It was intimidating as hell.
Forty stories of steel and glass reaching into the morning sky like so corporate monolith. The letters "HART INDUSTRIES" were mounted on the front in polished chro, catching the sunlight and probably blinding half the pedestrians on the street.
He looked down at his suit. Black. Sleek. Well-fitted.
It was the finest one he owned—a gift from Elena that he’d been terrified to wear for months because he was convinced he’d spill coffee on it. He’d made sure it was freshly pressed for today, though his palms were already sweating enough to undo all that effort.
Beside him, Elsa shifted nervously.
She was wearing a navy blue pantsuit that fit her perfectly.
Professional. Sharp.
Her white hair was pulled back into a neat bun, and she’d done her makeup carefully—though Liam noticed she kept touching her earring, a nervous tick he was starting to recognize.
She looked every bit the part of a businesswoman.
But her hands were trembling.
’She’s terrified.’
"You okay?" Liam asked.
Elsa nodded too quickly. "Yeah. I’m fine."
"You don’t look fine."
She let out a shaky breath that sounded almost like a laugh. "It’s just... strange. Being here again."
"When’s the last ti you were here?"
"Two years ago." The words ca out flat, almost chanical.
Liam waited, giving her space to continue if she wanted to.
Elsa looked down at her hands, still trembling. "Two years ago, my brother and I were both interns here. Dad set it up so we could learn the business. You know, get our feet wet, understand how Hart Industries really works."
"What changed?"
Elsa’s jaw tightened. "My brother stayed. I left." She shook her head, white hair catching the light. "It’s complicated. I’ll tell you later."
Liam nodded. "Alright."
Elsa looked up at the building again, and for a mont, sothing raw crossed her face—sothing that looked like old hurt wrapped in fresh determination. "Co on. We should go in."
They walked through the glass doors into the lobby.
The inside was just as impressive as the outside—and just as intimidating.
Marble floors so polished Liam could see his reflection. High ceilings that made him feel about three inches tall.
A massive chandelier hanging in the center that probably cost more than his childhood ho.
People in suits moved through the space with purpose, their footsteps echoing like gunshots in a cathedral.
Liam resisted the urge to adjust his tie again.
A woman at the front desk looked up as they approached.
She was in her late thirties, wearing a black blouse and a welcoming smile that seed genuine—the kind of smile that made Liam relax by about two percent.
"Good morning," she said. "Do you have an appointnt?"
"Yes," Liam said, trying to sound like soone who had appointnts in buildings like this all the ti. "With Mr. Hart. Eight o’clock."
The woman glanced at her computer, then looked up. "Na?"
"Liam Carter."
She nodded and typed sothing. Her manicured nails clicked against the keyboard in a steady rhythm.
Then her eyes shifted to Elsa, and her expression transford completely.
Recognition flashed across her face, followed by surprise, followed by sothing that looked almost like delight.
"Elsa?" she said, her voice rising. "Elsa Hart?"
Elsa smiled, but it looked like it hurt. "Hi, Monica."
Monica practically launched herself out of her chair, smile widening. "Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in forever! How have you been?"
"I’ve been good," Elsa said. "Just... busy."
"I bet." Monica glanced at Liam—curious, assessing—then back at Elsa. "Are you here to see your dad?"
"Yeah. We have a eting with him."
Monica’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. "That’s wonderful! He’s going to be so surprised to see you."
Elsa’s smile faltered for just a second before she forced it back into place. "Maybe."
Monica sat back down and picked up the phone, already dialing. "Let let him know you’re here."
She spoke quietly into the phone for a mont—too quietly for Liam to make out the words—then hung up and looked at them with that sa bright smile. "He’ll be right down. You can wait over there."
She gestured to a seating area near the elevators that looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel.
"Thanks, Monica," Elsa said.
They walked over and sat down on one of the leather couches—the kind that was so expensive it was almost uncomfortable.
As soon as Monica was out of earshot, Elsa’s leg started bouncing. Fast. Like she was trying to shake sothing off.
Liam pretended not to notice.
After a mont, Elsa spoke. "Can I ask you sothing?"
"Yeah."
"Why did you want to co with you today?"
Liam looked at her, surprised by the question. "Because you’re working with now. And this is part of the job."
"But you didn’t have to bring ," Elsa said, her voice quiet. "You could’ve done this alone."
"I could have," Liam admitted. "But I wanted you here."
She turned to look at him, her expression guarded. "Why?"
"Because you’re smart. Smarter than you give yourself credit for."
Elsa’s expression softened, just a little. "Thanks."
A warmth crept up her neck, and she glanced away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t notice the color rising in her cheeks.
There was a pause, and then the words just... ca out.
"I wish my dad could see that." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Because my dad has a way of not seeing when my brother’s around. It’s like I’m invisible. He doesn’t ask for my opinion. He doesn’t give opportunities. Everything goes to my brother."
She paused, staring at her hands. "That dinner the other night? When my dad praised ? That was the first ti he’s ever said anything like that. And it only happened because my brother wasn’t there."
Liam felt sothing twist in his chest. "That’s rough."
"Yeah," Elsa said with a bitter little laugh. "It is. That’s why I left. I wanted to build sothing of my own. Not live in my father’s shadow. Or my brother’s. So I tried to start sothing."
Before Liam could respond, the elevator doors opened.
Elsa’s father stepped out.
He was wearing a dark gray suit that probably cost more than Liam’s car, perfectly tailored to his fra. His expression was neutral—carefully neutral—as he walked toward them with the confidence of a man who owned forty stories of steel and glass.
His eyes landed on Liam first, then shifted to Elsa.
For a mont, his expression didn’t change.
Then sothing flickered across his face. Surprise. Then sothing else—sothing that looked almost like... guilt? Discomfort?
"Elsa," he said, and his voice was careful. Too careful.
Elsa stood up, and Liam scrambled to follow.
"Hi, Dad," Elsa said.
Her father looked between the two of them, and the silence stretched out like taffy. He seed uncertain about what to say next—which was strange for a man who probably gave orders to hundreds of people every day.
"I didn’t realize you’d be coming today."
"Liam asked to join him," Elsa said, her voice steadier than her hands. "I’m working with him now."
Her father’s eyebrows rose. "Working with him?"
"Yeah," Elsa said. "I’m helping him run his consulting business."
Her father studied her for a long mont, his expression unreadable.
There was sothing in his eyes that Liam couldn’t quite place. Sothing complicated.
Then he cleared his throat and turned to Liam, extending his hand like he was grateful for the distraction. "Liam. Good to see you again."
Liam shook his hand, trying not to think about how firm the grip was. "You too, sir."
Her father glanced at Elsa again, and the awkwardness returned like an unwelco guest.
He opened his mouth like he was going to say sothing, then closed it.
Finally, he settled on, "Well. This is unexpected. But... good. It’s good that you’re doing this."
The words ca out stilted, like he was reading from a script he’d never rehearsed.
Elsa just nodded, her expression carefully neutral.
Her father gestured toward the elevator, clearly ready to move past this mont. "Let’s go up to my office."
The elevator ride was silent.
Painfully silent.
Her father stood with his hands clasped in front of him, staring at the ascending floor numbers like they held the secrets of the universe. Elsa stood beside Liam, her posture so stiff she looked like she might snap.
Liam could feel the tension radiating off both of them like heat from asphalt.
His own heart was beating faster than he wanted to admit.
He’d studied for this. Watched videos. Read books. Made different research notes when he practically lived at the library. But now he was actually here, actually doing it, and reading about sothing and doing it were two completely different things.
’Just sound confident. That’s half the battle. Sound like you know what you’re talking about, and people will believe you do.’
He adjusted his tie again.
When the elevator doors finally opened on the top floor, her father led them down a long hallway lined with glass-walled offices where people in expensive suits did important-looking things.
At the end of the hallway was a large corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Her father’s office.
Of course it was.
He opened the door and gestured for them to enter.
The office was spacious and ticulously organized—the kind of space that scread "successful executive" without actually having to say anything.
A large mahogany desk sat in the center, surrounded by shelves lined with books and awards that probably had his na engraved on them. The windows offered a stunning view of the city skyline, all concrete and glass and ambition.
Her father walked around his desk and sat down, gesturing for Liam and Elsa to take the seats across from him.
They sat.
Liam tried not to think about how the chairs were positioned lower than the desk—a power move he’d read about in one of those business books.
Her father leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him like so kind of corporate villain. "So, Liam. You said on the phone that you’ve been looking into the issue I ntioned."
"Yes, sir," Liam said, channeling every ounce of fake confidence he possessed. "I’ve done so initial research. But before we get into that, I’d like to see the actual data. Shipping logs, supplier records, quality control reports. Anything you have that relates to the product complaints."
Her father nodded slowly, studying him. "I can get that for you. What specifically are you looking for?"
"Patterns," Liam said. "Inconsistencies. Anything that stands out as unusual."
It sounded good. Professional. Like he knew what he was doing.
Her father picked up his phone and pressed a button. "Sarah, can you co in here for a mont?"
A few seconds later, a woman in her forties entered the office. She was wearing a gray blazer and had a tablet in her hand, and she moved with the efficiency of soone who’d been doing this job for years.
"Sarah, this is Liam Carter and Elsa," her father said, gesturing to them.
Elsa coughed slightly—a small, pointed sound.
Her father paused, then looked at her. His expression tightened for just a second before he corrected himself. "Sorry. Elsa Hart."
There was another awkward mont where he looked frustrated with himself, like he’d made a mistake on a test he should have aced.
Sarah nodded politely, seemingly oblivious to the tension. "Nice to et you both."
"They’re going to need access to our shipping logs, supplier records, and quality control reports from the last six months," her father continued, his voice back to business mode.
Sarah nodded. "I’ll pull those up for you right now."
She walked over to a computer on the side of the desk and started typing, her fingers flying across the keyboard.
Liam glanced at Elsa, who was sitting quietly beside him, her eyes focused on Sarah’s screen with laser intensity.
After a mont, Sarah turned the screen toward them. "Here are the shipping logs. I can pull up the supplier records and quality control reports as well if you need them."
"Let see the shipping logs first," Liam said.
He leaned forward, studying the screen.
The logs were organized by date, with columns showing shipnt numbers, destinations, and quantities.
Rows and rows of numbers.
He scrolled through them slowly, his eyes scanning the data.
And... nothing stood out.
’Great. Fantastic. I have no idea what I’m looking at.’
He scrolled again, slower this ti, squinting at the screen like that would sohow make the patterns reveal themselves. But everything just looked like numbers. Rows and rows of numbers that all blurred together into a headache-inducing ss.
’Co on. There has to be sothing here.’
Elsa leaned in beside him, her eyes moving over the screen as well.
The silence stretched out. Liam could feel her father watching them, waiting, probably wondering if he’d made a terrible mistake hiring this kid who clearly had no idea what he was doing.
"Can you sort this by supplier?" Elsa asked suddenly.
Sarah nodded and clicked sothing. The screen reorganized itself.
Liam’s eyes moved down the new list, and then—
There.
"Wait," he said, pointing at the screen. "This shipnt here. It says it was delivered to a warehouse in Nevada. But the quantity is lower than what was shipped out."
Sarah frowned. "That’s not unusual. Sotis there’s shrinkage during transport."
Liam felt a flicker of doubt creep in. ’Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this is normal and I just don’t know enough to—’
"How much shrinkage are we talking about?" Elsa asked, her voice steadier than before.
Sarah pulled up another screen. "Usually around two to three percent."
Liam looked at the number again, and his pulse quickened. "This one’s missing ten percent."
There was a pause.
The kind of pause that ant sothing.
Her father leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Ten percent?"
"Yeah," Liam said, and now the confidence wasn’t fake anymore. He scrolled down further, his heart starting to race. "And it’s not just this one. Look at this shipnt. And this one. They’re all missing around ten percent."
Sarah’s frown deepened. "That’s... that’s not normal."
"No, it’s not," Liam said. He turned to her father, and for the first ti since entering this office, he felt like he actually belonged here. "Can you pull up the supplier records for these shipnts?"
Sarah typed quickly, and a new screen appeared.
Liam studied it, his eyes moving over the nas and addresses.
Then he stopped.
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