Gold Letters on Marble

Before I could react, Julian lunged forward, not toward the door, but toward the open balcony French doors. He bolted past the desk, kicking over a wooden chair, and burst out onto the high-rise stone terrace that overlooked the glittering city lights far below.

"Julian, stop!" I shouted, sprinting across the Persian rug and chasing him out onto the windy balcony.

The cold night air whipped my hair across my face as I stepped out into the open space. Forty floors down, the traffic on the downtown streets looked like scattered glowing ants.

Julian stood near the edge of the stone balustrade, breathing heavily, clutching the folder and the flash drive like a lifeline. He turned around, his back to the terrifying drop, a manic, unhinged grin spreading across his face.

"You want the files, Charlotte?!" Julian screamed over the howling wind. "You want the truth about how your family’s money was made?! Come and get it!"

"Julian, you're cornered!" I yelled, holding my hand out defensively, bracing against the wind. "The building is locked down! Security is downstairs! You can't escape!"

"I don't need to escape!" Julian laughed hysterically, holding the manila folder over the edge of the stone railing. "If I go down, I'm taking the foundational secrets of Valle Industries with me! These papers prove that your precious grandfather wasn't an angel—he built this empire on the backs of ruined partners and silenced whistleblowers!"

"I already know my grandfather isn't a saint," I said, my voice cutting through the wind with absolute calm. "Nobody who builds an empire is. But what he didn't do was steal from his own blood, and he certainly didn't hide behind his wife to do his dirty work."

Julian’s face twisted with pure rage. He raised his arm, preparing to hurl the manila folder and the flash drive out into the night air where they would scatter across the city streets and vanish forever.