The power of the city hummed beneath my feet.

My assistant, a sharp young woman named Sarah, knocked and stepped in, looking perplexed.

“Ms. Carter? Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a frantic man on line one for the executive office. He’s called six times in the last hour, begging to speak with the new owner of the Whitmore Trust.”

I froze. “Did he give a name?”

“He said his name is Daniel Carter. He claims he had a prior arrangement with Margaret Whitmore to lease three floors, and he needs an emergency meeting to secure an advance on a buyout. He sounds… desperate, ma’am. He said people are looking for him.”

A cold, steady calm settled over my chest. He didn’t know.