Chapter 2 - The Offer
I did not sleep.
At 2:13 in the morning, I sat on the kitchen floor with my laptop balanced on my knees and searched Stellan Voss’s name until my eyes hurt.
There were hundreds of articles.
Business acquisitions.
Luxury developments.
Political fundraisers.
Charity galas.
A photograph of Stellan beside the mayor.
Another beside a hospital board.
Then I found an old article from six years earlier.
The photograph stopped me.
Stellan stood beside his older brother, Adrian Voss.
Adrian had died in a car accident five years ago.
Beside Adrian stood his fiancée.
I zoomed in.
My stomach dropped.
Her name was Lillian Mercer.
My sister.
The sister I had not spoken to in seven years.
The sister my mother had forbidden anyone to mention after she disappeared from our lives.
I read the article twice.
Then three times.
Lillian had been engaged to Adrian Voss.
Four months before their wedding, she vanished.
No explanation.
No public breakup.
Nothing.
One year later, Adrian died.
I stared toward Hazel sleeping on the couch.
Suddenly I understood why Stellan knew the Mercer name.
But I did not understand Hazel.
At 8:07 the next morning, someone knocked.
I expected Stellan.
Instead, a woman in a navy suit stood outside.
“Josephine Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Evelyn Shaw. I represent Voss Industries.”
She handed me an envelope.
Inside was a job offer.
Executive hospitality coordinator.
Salary: $115,000.
Health insurance effective immediately.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because sometimes a number is so far beyond your life that laughter becomes the only available response.
“This is ridiculous.”
“Mr. Voss expected you might say that.”
“Of course he did.”
I looked at Evelyn.
“What does an executive hospitality coordinator do?”
“Whatever Mr. Voss needs.”
“That sounds worse.”
For the first time, Evelyn almost smiled.
“The official responsibilities are coordinating private meetings, corporate events and executive travel. Mr. Voss believes your ability to read people would be useful.”
“I carry steaks.”
“You remember preferences, anticipate problems and notice what people avoid saying. Apparently he finds that valuable.”
I folded the offer.
“What does he actually want?”
Evelyn’s expression changed.
“You should ask him.”
So I did.
That afternoon I walked into Voss Tower.
Stellan’s office occupied the sixty-first floor.
Chicago spread beyond the glass like something he owned.
He stood behind his desk when I entered.
“You researched me.”
It was not a question.
“I researched your brother.”
His face changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“And my sister.”
Silence.
“Lillian Mercer.”
I placed my phone on his desk with the old photograph displayed.
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wasn’t certain what you knew.”
“About what?”
He looked directly at me.
“About why she disappeared.”
I felt cold.
“My sister abandoned us.”
“That is what you were told.”
“By my mother.”
“And your mother lied.”
I stepped backward.
“You don’t know my mother.”
“I knew Lillian.”
His voice became softer.
“She was terrified before she disappeared.”
“Of Adrian?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“Adrian loved her.”
“Then who?”
Stellan hesitated.
That frightened me more than anything.
“A man named Victor Hale.”
I knew the name.
Everybody did.
Hale Development was Voss Industries’ largest competitor.
“What does that have to do with Hazel?”
His eyes sharpened.
“Everything.”
Before he could explain, my phone rang.
Hazel’s school.
I answered.
The teacher sounded breathless.
“Ms. Mercer, Hazel is having trouble breathing.”
Everything inside me stopped.
I was running before the call ended.
Stellan caught me near the elevator.
“What happened?”
“Hazel.”
That single word was enough.
Twenty minutes later we were in the emergency department.
Stellan remained outside the treatment room while doctors stabilized Hazel.
Her oxygen level improved.
The physician told me it appeared to be an asthma flare complicated by a respiratory infection.
I nearly collapsed with relief.
Then the admissions clerk approached.
“There’s an issue with your insurance.”
Of course there was.
I closed my eyes.
“I’ll handle it.”
“It’s already handled,” Stellan said behind me.
I turned.
“No.”
“Jo.”
“No.”
I walked toward him.
“You don’t get to buy your way into my daughter’s life.”
His jaw tightened.
“I’m paying a hospital bill.”
“You sent flowers you somehow knew she liked. Books from her school list. You knew her age. You knew my sister.”
People were watching.
I did not care.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Stellan looked toward Hazel’s room.
Then he said five words that changed everything.
“I think Lillian is alive.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“We received information two months ago.”
“From where?”
“A private investigator.”
“Why were you investigating her?”
“Because Adrian asked me to.”
“Adrian is dead.”
“Yes.”
Stellan’s face hardened.
“But before he died, he left me something.”
He reached into his coat and removed a small brass key.
“He told me if Lillian ever resurfaced, I was supposed to protect her family.”
I stared at it.
“What does it open?”
“A safe-deposit box.”
“Then open it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it requires two keys.”
He looked at me.
“Adrian had one.”
“And the other?”
“Lillian had it.”
A memory surfaced.
My mother dying three years earlier.
Her trembling fingers closing something inside an old wooden jewelry box.
She had told me never to throw it away.
I had never opened the false bottom.
My heart began pounding.
“I think I know where it is.”
Stellan’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Whatever he saw transformed his face.
“What?”
He turned the phone toward me.
A photograph had been texted from an unknown number.
Hazel leaving school that morning.
Taken from across the street.
Beneath it were seven words.
STOP LOOKING FOR LILLIAN MERCER OR ELSE.
For the first time, Stellan Voss looked frightened.
Not for himself.
For my daughter.
May you like
And that was the moment I realized whatever had begun at table nine had never been about a billionaire noticing a waitress.
Someone had been waiting for me to find him.
