Sinclair’s executive assistant. She extended a hand and Noah shook it, acutely aware of his work boots and the fact that his nicest shirt still had a small stain near the collar from when Emma spilled juice last week. Thanks for having me. I’m still not entirely sure why I’m here. Ms. Sinclair will explain everything.
Clare stepped aside, gesturing him into an entrance hall that was bigger than Noah’s entire apartment. marble floors, a chandelier that looked like it belonged in a palace, and a staircase that curved up to a second floor. She’s in the sun room, if you’ll follow me. Bum. Noah followed, trying not to gawk like a tourist.
They passed through what looked like a formal living room nobody actually lived in, then a library with floor to ceiling bookshelves, and finally emerged into a bright space with glass walls overlooking an actual garden. Victoria was sitting in a chair by the windows and Noah almost didn’t recognize her. Gone was the terrified rain soaked woman from two nights ago.
This Victoria wore expensive casual clothes, her dark hair styled perfectly, makeup subtle but clearly professional. She looked like she belonged in this house, in this life, in a way Noah would never understand. But when she saw him, her face broke into a genuine smile that reminded him of the woman in his car.
Scared and grateful and human. Noah, thank you for coming. Of course. How are you feeling? Everything okay with the baby? Everything’s fine. They kept me overnight for observation, but we’re both healthy. She gestured to the chair across from her. Please sit. Can Clare get you anything? Coffee? Water? I’m fine, thanks.
Clare nodded and disappeared, closing the glass doors behind her with a soft click. Victoria waited until they were alone before speaking again. I want to apologize for the cloak and dagger routine, having Clare call instead of reaching out myself. I know it probably seemed strange. A little, Noah admitted, but I figured you had your reasons. I do.
Victoria leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. The first thing you need to understand is that I wasn’t entirely honest with you the other night. Not because I wanted to deceive you, but because I’ve learned to be careful about who knows certain things about my life. Noah felt something cold settle in his stomach.
What things? My full name is Victoria Sinclair. Does that mean anything to you? Noah searched his memory and came up empty. Should it? Um, maybe not. I prefer it that way. Victoria picked up a tablet from the side table and handed it to him. This is me. Noah looked at the screen and felt his brain stutter.
The web page showed a professional photo of Victoria, more formal, more intimidating, beside a headline that read, “Victoria Sinclair, CEO of Sinclair Global Industries, announces expansion into green technology sector.” He scrolled down. More articles, more photos. Victoria at business conferences. Victoria shaking hands with people in suits.
Victoria standing in front of corporate buildings with the Sinclair logo prominently displayed. You’re a CEO. I’m the CEO. Victoria corrected gently. Sinclair Global is a holding company. We own 37 subsidiaries across 15 industries. Manufacturing, technology, logistics, retail, about 40 billion in annual revenue.
Noah looked up from the tablet, then back down at the screen, then up again. His mouth felt dry. The warehouse where I worked, Morrison Logistics. One of ours. You own the company that just fired me. S not directly. It’s three corporate layers removed. But yes, technically Morrison Logistics operates under the Sinclair Global umbrella.
Victoria’s expression was difficult to read. I didn’t know about your firing when I asked Clare to invite you here. I only found out this morning when I had her look into your background. Noah set the tablet down carefully, afraid he might throw it otherwise. You investigated me? I wanted to know who you were. The man who stopped to help a stranger when he had every reason to keep driving.
Victoria’s voice was quiet. What I found was someone who’s worked his tail off for 5 years, never missed a shift until two nights ago, and got fired for being late to one meeting. Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you work for people who don’t give a damn about you. It’s what happens when you work for people like Richard Strauss, corrupt middle managers who think their small amount of power makes them untouchable.
Noah stared at her. What are you talking about? Victoria pulled up something else on her tablet and turned it toward him. Spreadsheets, emails, what looked like financial records. After I found out what happened to you, I had my corporate compliance team do a deep dive into Morrison logistics, specifically into Richard Strauss’s management practices.
She pointed to one of the documents. He’s been running a kickback scheme for the last 3 years. Vendors pay him under the table for preferential treatment. He fires good employees and replaces them with friends and family he can control. And he’s been doctoring time cards to make himself look more efficient than he actually is. Ace.
