Chapter 3 - The Interrogation in the Penthouse
The private elevator ride to the thirty-fifth floor was conducted in absolute, suffocating silence.
Thomas stood directly in front of the mirrored doors, his broad shoulders blocking Mila’s reflection entirely. He hadn't spoken a single word since they left Conference Room B, but the air inside the small cabin felt charged, like the seconds before a lightning strike.
When the doors slid open, they didn't step out into a bustling office floor.
Instead, they entered Thomas’s private penthouse suite—a sprawling expanse of dark walnut, floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the sprawling skyline of the city, and minimalist modern furniture that looked as though it had been curated by someone incapable of error.
Standing by the massive glass window, looking out over the city with an air of arrogant entitlement, was a man Mila recognized instantly.
Arthur Vance.
Julian’s older brother, and the reigning chairman of Meridian Holdings.
Arthur was older, his hair silver at the temples, wearing an impeccably tailored Italian suit that cost more than a small car. He turned slowly as the elevator chime echoed, his pale blue eyes locking onto Mila with a cold, predatory gleam.
“Well, well,” Arthur purred, a thin smile stretching across his lined face. “The prodigal analyst. We spent two years looking for you across three continents, Miss Hart, and all this time you were hiding right under Thomas’s expensive nose.”
Thomas walked past Arthur without a glance, pouring himself a finger of dark amber whiskey from a crystal decanter on a mahogany sideboard. He didn't offer any to Mila or Arthur.
“Arthur,” Thomas said smoothly, swirling the liquor in his glass. “You walk into my building unannounced, bypass three layers of security, and interrupt my workday. It better be about more than a disgruntled former employee.”
Arthur chuckled, though his eyes never left Mila. He took a slow step forward, his polished oxfords clicking against the hardwood floor.
“She’s not just a disgruntled employee, Thomas. She’s a thief. Or worse, a traitor.” Arthur pointed a manicured finger directly at Mila. “She walked out of our London office with a secure hardware token containing every offshore shell company ledger we used for the European acquisitions. The very ledgers that triggered an international tax fraud investigation against Meridian last month.”
Mila’s blood ran cold. She forced her voice to remain steady, stepping forward to meet Arthur’s gaze.
“If I had a token like that, Arthur, I would have handed it to federal authorities the day I walked out. I didn't steal anything from Meridian. I simply refused to keep falsifying compliance reports for your illegal shell companies.”
“A noble defense,” Arthur sneered, stepping closer. “Except for one tiny detail. The encryption key used to leak those files to the DOJ matches the digital signature of the workstation assigned to you in our London division.”
“Workstations can be spoofed,” Mila snapped back. “Anyone with root access could have planted that signature.”
“Like Thomas, for instance?” Arthur suggested smoothly, turning his gaze toward the CEO.
Thomas took a slow sip of his whiskey, his expression entirely unreadable. He leaned back against the mahogany sideboard, watching the exchange with the detached amusement of a spectator at a high-stakes chess match.
“You think I leaked Meridian’s files to the DOJ, Arthur?” Thomas asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“I think,” Arthur replied carefully, “that Meridian Holdings and Crane International have been bidding against each other for European real estate assets for over a year. And I think it’s awfully convenient that your new lead analyst happens to be the exact person who had the keys to our vault.”
The tension in the penthouse snapped tight.
Arthur thought he was holding all the cards. He believed he could walk into Thomas’s building, bully his way into an interrogation, and reclaim whatever leverage Meridian had lost.
He didn't realize he was playing a game he didn't understand.
Thomas set his whiskey glass down on the sideboard with a sharp clink.
He didn't raise his voice. He didn't gesture wildly. He simply straightened his cuffs and walked across the room until he was standing less than two feet from Arthur Vance.
Though Arthur was wealthy and powerful, Thomas towered over him by several inches, possessing the unmistakable aura of a man who could dismantle an empire with a single phone call.
“Arthur,” Thomas said, his voice dropping into a chillingly polite register. “Let me make three things very clear to you before you finish embarrassing yourself in my office.”
Arthur’s smile faltered slightly. “Thomas, let’s not be hasty—’
“First,” Thomas interrupted, his dark eyes narrowing into twin daggers. “You do not walk into my building without an appointment. If you ever bypass my security team again, I will have you physically removed and dropped into the public street before your driver can even park the car.”
Arthur swallowed hard, taking an involuntary half-step back.
“Second,” Thomas continued, his voice unrelenting. “Mila Hart is an employee of Crane International. What she did, or allegedly did, at Meridian before she was hired here is none of your concern. If you have evidence of a crime, take it to the federal prosecutor. But if you ever come into my office and threaten one of my people again, I will personally initiate a hostile takeover of Meridian Holdings and strip your family of every asset you own before the end of the fiscal quarter.”
The silence that followed was absolute.
Arthur’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He knew Thomas Crane had the capital, the connections, and the ruthless efficiency to make good on that threat without breaking a sweat.
“And third,” Thomas finished, his tone dropping to a lethal whisper. “Get out of my penthouse.”
For a second, Arthur looked like he wanted to argue, to salvage some shred of his dignity. But one look into Thomas’s impenetrable, cold eyes convinced him otherwise.
Without another word, Arthur turned on his heel, practically marching toward the private elevator. The doors slid open instantly, swallowing him up, and closed with a soft, final thud.
Mila stood motionless in the center of the spacious room, her chest heaving as the adrenaline slowly began to recede from her veins.
She looked at Thomas, her mind racing with a hundred chaotic questions. He had just threatened one of the most powerful corporate barons in Europe to protect her.
Why?
Was it because she was his employee? Or was it because of what happened three nights ago under the golden lights of Venice?
Thomas turned away from the elevator doors and walked slowly back toward her. He stopped just a foot away, his dark gaze sweeping over her pale face, lingering for a fraction of a second on her trembling lips.
“You’re shaking, Mila,” he noted quietly.
“You just declared war on Meridian Holdings,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Why did you do that? You don't even know if I’m innocent.”
Thomas reached out, his fingers gently brushing against her cheek, tracing the high curve of her bone structure with a touch that was impossibly tender, yet entirely commanding.
“I don’t care if you stole their files, Mila,” Thomas murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with a dark, consuming fire. “What I care about is that you’re mine to deal with now. Nobody else touches my assets.”
Before she could process the weight of his words, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket.
May you like
Thomas pulled it out, glanced at the glowing screen, and his expression darkened instantly.
“It seems Arthur’s little visit was just a distraction,” Thomas said, his jaw tightening as he looked up at Mila. “Downstairs, the federal authorities are in the lobby. And they’re asking for you.”
