Chapter 5
The black Rolls-Royce idled at the building's entrance. Margaret opened the rear door and waited.
I slid inside.
William Graves sat in the opposite seat, a man of eighty-two who looked sixty and carried himself like a general who had never lost a war. His silver hair was swept back, his jaw set, his eyes—the same grey as mine—sharp enough to cut.
"Let me see your face," he said.
I turned toward him. He studied me for a long moment, taking in whatever the last three years had carved into my features.
His jaw tightened. "You've lost weight."
"Grandfather—"
"Three years." His voice was low, and tightly controlled. "Three years you hid from me. Changed your number. Blocked my people. Refused every contact."
He leaned forward, and for the first time, I saw the rawness beneath his composure. "I thought you were dead, Elena. Do you understand? I thought they killed you, and I was preparing to raze that family to the ground."
Guilt crept in. In my first life, I had never reconciled with him. I had been too proud, too stubborn, too convinced that I needed to prove myself without the Graves name. By the time I wanted to call, my phone was gone. My apartment was gone. I was gone.
"I'm sorry," I said. And meant it.
He exhaled slowly. Then he reached across and gripped my hand—firm, warm, alive.
"You're here now." He settled back. "That's what matters."
The car pulled away from the curb. Through the tinted window, I watched the Carter Group building shrink behind us, a glass tower that had once felt like a prison.
"I've reviewed the situation," William said, his tone shifting to business. "The Carter Group is leveraged beyond reason. Three failed developments. A lawsuit from the Haifeng Group. Stock down 30 percent this quarter."
He fixed me with a look. "They married you for your potential. They didn't know exactly who you were, but they suspected you had connections. When those connections didn't materialize on their schedule, they decided you were worthless."
I nodded. That matched what I'd pieced together.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
In my first life, I had wanted nothing. I had wanted to disappear. I had wanted the pain to stop.
Now, I wanted something else entirely.
"I built something during those three years," I said. "A company. AI logistics optimization. It's ready to launch."
William's eyebrow rose. "You built a tech company while trapped in that household?"
"They thought I was browsing fashion magazines." A thin smile crossed my lips. "They never checked."
He studied me for a moment, then laughed—a full, resonant sound that filled the car.
"That's my granddaughter." He slapped his knee. "What do you need from me?"
"Nothing yet," I said. "I just need you to watch."
His eyes gleamed. "And the Carters?"
I looked out the window at the city skyline—glass and steel and ambition.
"They'll come to me," I said. "They always do."
---
I slid inside.
William Graves sat in the opposite seat, a man of eighty-two who looked sixty and carried himself like a general who had never lost a war. His silver hair was swept back, his jaw set, his eyes—the same grey as mine—sharp enough to cut.
"Let me see your face," he said.
I turned toward him. He studied me for a long moment, taking in whatever the last three years had carved into my features.
His jaw tightened. "You've lost weight."
"Grandfather—"
"Three years." His voice was low, and tightly controlled. "Three years you hid from me. Changed your number. Blocked my people. Refused every contact."
He leaned forward, and for the first time, I saw the rawness beneath his composure. "I thought you were dead, Elena. Do you understand? I thought they killed you, and I was preparing to raze that family to the ground."
Guilt crept in. In my first life, I had never reconciled with him. I had been too proud, too stubborn, too convinced that I needed to prove myself without the Graves name. By the time I wanted to call, my phone was gone. My apartment was gone. I was gone.
"I'm sorry," I said. And meant it.
He exhaled slowly. Then he reached across and gripped my hand—firm, warm, alive.
"You're here now." He settled back. "That's what matters."
The car pulled away from the curb. Through the tinted window, I watched the Carter Group building shrink behind us, a glass tower that had once felt like a prison.
"I've reviewed the situation," William said, his tone shifting to business. "The Carter Group is leveraged beyond reason. Three failed developments. A lawsuit from the Haifeng Group. Stock down 30 percent this quarter."
He fixed me with a look. "They married you for your potential. They didn't know exactly who you were, but they suspected you had connections. When those connections didn't materialize on their schedule, they decided you were worthless."
I nodded. That matched what I'd pieced together.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
In my first life, I had wanted nothing. I had wanted to disappear. I had wanted the pain to stop.
Now, I wanted something else entirely.
"I built something during those three years," I said. "A company. AI logistics optimization. It's ready to launch."
William's eyebrow rose. "You built a tech company while trapped in that household?"
"They thought I was browsing fashion magazines." A thin smile crossed my lips. "They never checked."
He studied me for a moment, then laughed—a full, resonant sound that filled the car.
"That's my granddaughter." He slapped his knee. "What do you need from me?"
"Nothing yet," I said. "I just need you to watch."
His eyes gleamed. "And the Carters?"
I looked out the window at the city skyline—glass and steel and ambition.
"They'll come to me," I said. "They always do."
---