Chapter 3 - THE GHOST OF CHINATOWNThe rain began to fall just as Alexander’s armored Maybach pulled up to the mouth of a narrow alleyway off Doyers Street in Chinatown. The neon signs flickered through the downpour, casting long, bruised streaks of red and green across the wet pavement.
"Are you sure about this, Mr. Sterling?" asked Vance—not Marcus, but Jack Vance, head of Alexander’s private intelligence detail, who sat in the passenger seat tapping furiously on a military-grade tablet. "The traffic cams tracked the girl running down this block after she was thrown out of Aurelia."
"She didn't vanish into thin air, Jack," Alexander said, opening the door and stepping out into the cold rain. He wore a heavy wool trench coat, shielding his Italian suit from the drizzle. "Find her."
They scoured the labyrinthine alleys, past steaming metal grates and rusted fire escapes, until they heard a muffled cough coming from behind a row of industrial recycling bins.
Alexander pushed past a stack of cardboard boxes and stopped.
Crouched beneath a blue plastic tarp was the girl. Up close, without the harsh restaurant lighting, she looked even smaller. Her oversized blue hoodie was soaked through, her sneakers caked in mud. She was shivering violently, clutching a battered backpack to her chest like a shield.
"Go away," she muttered, her voice raspy, her startlingly blue eyes flashing with defiance as she looked up at the towering silhouette of the billionaire. "I didn't steal nothing from your restaurant."
Alexander knelt down, ignoring the mud soaking into the knees of his trousers.
"I know you didn't," Alexander said gently, his voice carrying a warmth that rarely surfaced in boardrooms. "My name is Alexander."
"I know who you are," she spat back. "You're the guy dating the snake."
Alexander let out a faint, dry smile. "Fair point. What’s your name?"
"Maya."
"Well, Maya," Alexander said, taking off his expensive cashmere scarf and wrapping it around her trembling shoulders. "You saved my life tonight. I don't usually let debts go unpaid. Especially not to brilliant young investigators."
Maya pulled the scarf tighter, the warmth finally relaxing her rigid posture. "I didn't do it for you. I did it because I hate those men. I heard them talking in the alley behind the restaurant yesterday. They said they were going to replace you, take your money, and put someone in a grave. I tried to tell the manager, but he threw a mop at me. So I waited until tonight."
Alexander studied her. There was a raw, unfiltered intelligence in her eyes—the kind of hyper-awareness born from survival.
"Where are your parents, Maya?"
The girl looked away, her jaw tightening. "Gone. It’s just me."
Alexander stood up, extending a large, steady hand down to her. "How would you feel about a career change? Starting with a hot meal, a dry bed, and a very aggressive team of tutors to help you put those investigative skills to proper use."
Maya looked at his hand, then up at his face, searching for any sign of a trap. Finding none, she slowly placed her small, cold hand in his.
May you like
"Do you have hot chocolate?" she asked.
"An endless supply," Alexander replied.
