Adrian's hands were shaking as he threw the file across his desk. Papers spread everywhere like broken dreams.
Thirty million dollars. Gone.
He'd been looking at the numbers for the last three hours, hoping they would change. Hoping his accountant made a mistake. Hoping this was a bad dream and he'd wake up in his apartment to find everything was fine.
But the numbers didn't change.
"Sir, we need to talk about this," his CFO said nervously, standing by the door. Her name was Janet, and she'd worked for Adrian for five years. She was scared. Everyone was scared when money went missing.
Adrian didn't look at her. He couldn't. Because if he looked at her, he'd have to accept that this was real.
"Get me Marcus," Adrian said quietly.
"Marcus?" Janet's voice went up. "You want to call him? He's the one who—"
"Get. Me. Marcus."
She left. Adrian turned to face the window of his office. From the forty-second floor, the city looked small. Cars looked like toys. People looked like ants. When you were this high up, everything below seemed unimportant. But Adrian knew the truth.
Money was everything down there.
Marcus arrived twenty minutes later, still wearing his workout clothes. He'd been at the gym. Adrian could smell the sweat and cologne on him.
"Hey man, what's going on?" Marcus said, smiling. "Janet said it was urgent."
Adrian studied his best friend's face. They'd known each other since college. Marcus had been there when Adrian started the company. Marcus had celebrated every victory with him. Marcus had been his only real friend in a world full of people who just wanted money.
But something was wrong.
Adrian could feel it in his bones.
"Where's the money, Marcus?"
Marcus's smile froze. "What money?"
"The thirty million dollars that disappeared from the company account three days ago."
For just a second—less than a second—Adrian saw something flash in Marcus's eyes. Guilt. Or fear. Or both. Then the smile came back, but it wasn't real anymore.
"I don't know anything about that," Marcus said.
"You're lying," Adrian said.
"I'm not—"
"You're lying," Adrian repeated, standing up. "I can see it. I can feel it. You're lying to me."
Marcus's face went red. "You know what? Maybe you should check your own people before you blame me. Maybe it's Janet. Maybe it's one of the other bosses. Maybe—"
"Get out," Adrian said.
"What?"
"Get out of my office. Get out of my company. You're fired."
Marcus's face went from red to white. "You're firing me? On what proof? You have nothing! You can't just—"
"Get. Out."
Adrian didn't raise his voice. He didn't have to. When you had enough money and power, you didn't need to yell. People just followed.
Marcus left, closing the door so hard the windows rattled.
Adrian sat back in his chair and felt something crack inside his chest. His best friend had stolen from him. Or was stealing from him. Or was about to steal from him. Adrian didn't know which was worse—the betrayal or the confusion.
He tried to work. He tried to review contracts and make choices. But his brain felt like it was filled with junk. Nothing made sense.
By midnight, Adrian gave up.
He left the office building and drove. He didn't know where he was going. His driver—usually waiting by the car—called his name, but Adrian just waved him off and drove himself. He needed to be alone with his thoughts.
But being alone with his thoughts was pain.
So he drove to The Velvet.
Adrian didn't know why. He'd never been there before. He didn't even know it existed until he saw the small sign and something inside him said stop here. Something was calling him to that place.
When he walked in, the bar was almost empty. Just an old man in the corner and a waiter. The bartender was a girl—young, maybe mid-twenties, with tired eyes and hair that kept falling in her face. She looked like she was carrying something heavy.
Adrian knew that look. He saw it in the mirror every morning.
"What do you want?" she asked.
The question was simple, but something about it broke him. Nobody asked Adrian what he wanted anymore. They asked what he could give them. What he could do for them. What his money could buy them.
But this girl just asked what he wanted.
"I don't know," Adrian said, and it was the most honest thing he'd said all day.
He ordered a drink. She made it. Then he ordered another. And then, without meaning to, he started talking.
He told her about Marcus. He told her about the betrayal. He told her about his childhood—about his father leaving when he was seven years old. About his mother raising him in poverty. About the day he swore he'd never be poor again.
He told her about building the company. About the success. About the silence.
And the girl listened.
She didn't tell him he was rich and should stop whining. She didn't tell him to call the police. She didn't try to fix his problems. She just listened like he mattered.
Hours passed. The sun came up. And Adrian realized something.
For the first time in years, he felt human.
"What's your name?" he asked her as the sun turned the sky orange.
"Ivy," she said.
"I'm—" Adrian started to say his name, but then he stopped. In this moment, with this girl, he didn't want to be Adrian Kessler the businessman. He just wanted to be Adrian. Just a man. Just a person.
"Just Adrian," he said.
Ivy smiled. It was a real smile. The first real thing he'd felt in years.
Then his phone buzzed.
Adrian picked it up and looked at the screen. His lawyer had sent a message with a file attached. Adrian opened it, and his blood turned to ice.
The email said: We have proof of the theft. But there's more. The money trail shows TWO people moving the funds. Marcus couldn't have done this alone. Someone inside your inner circle helped him. We're still investigating who. But Adrian—if we're right, this person is someone VERY close to you. Someone you trust completely.
Adrian's hands went numb.
Someone he trusted completely.
He looked at his phone's call records from the last week. And that's when he saw something that made his whole world tilt sideways.
The person Marcus had been calling repeatedly—seventeen times in three days—was someone Adrian would have trusted with his life.
It was his own mother.
Before Adrian could process this news, the door to The Velvet burst open.
Three men in suits stormed in. His lawyer. Two government agents.
"Adrian Kessler," one of them said. "We need to talk about the lost money. And we need to talk about your relationship with Marcus Venn. Now."
Adrian stood up. He looked at Ivy one last time. She deserved better than to be connected to this mess. He gave her a look that said everything: Forget me.
But as the men led him out into the sunlight, Adrian's mind was spinning with one terrifying question: Had his own mother been stealing from him?
And worse—what else didn't he know?