Chapter 3 - The Silence of the 40th FloorMark’s chair scraped loudly against the parquet floor as he tried to stand, his knees locking up.
Elena Vance.
The name echoed through his skull like a gunshot. Vance & Co. wasn't named after Arthur Vance’s family history—it was named after her. Arthur was just a front, a managing director hired decades ago by her grandfather to run the day-to-day operations while the true bloodline held the controlling stake.
Elena did not look at him. She walked past the mahogany table with the slow, terrifying grace of an apex predator moving through shallow water.
She took the central seat at the head of the table—the seat Arthur had just vacated.
"Sit down, Mr. Sterling," Elena said.
Her voice had none of the gentle, bruised softness she used when asking him about his day. It was low, crystalline, and absolutely freezing.
Mark sank back into his chair, his hands trembling violently beneath the table. He gripped his thighs to keep them from shaking.
"Miss Vance," Arthur began, clearing his throat nervously. "We were just reviewing Mr. Sterling’s portfolio for the regional directorship. His numbers are—"
"I know his numbers," Elena interrupted, resting her elbows on the polished wood and lacing her fingers together. She finally raised her dark eyes, fixing them squarely on Mark.
The weight of her gaze felt physical, like a hydraulic press bearing down on his chest.
"You said something interesting just as I walked in, Mr. Sterling," Elena said softly. "You mentioned something about... pruning dead weight?"
Mark’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The bright, confident corporate warrior of ten minutes ago had dissolved into a sweating, pale-faced ghost.
"I—Elena—I didn't mean—"
"My name is Miss Vance in this building," she cut him off, her tone dropping another degree into glacial indifference. "And you are quite right about one thing, Mark. Dead weight must be removed."
She turned her gaze to Arthur Vance. "Pull up file 88-B on the main monitor."
May you like
Arthur’s fingers flew across his console. A digital document flashed onto the massive screen at the end of the room.
It was an internal compliance audit of the Ohio logistics restructuring Mark had just bragged about.
