Strategy documents marked confidential. Piece by piece, she built a picture of Draytech’s operations. And piece by piece, she found the cracks.
Payments that didn’t add up. Shell companies that went nowhere. Tax strategies that skirted legal lines.
Nothing smoking gun obvious. Lennox was too smart for that. But enough to make someone curious.
Enough to start asking questions. One evening, she was leaving late. Almost midnight.
Building mostly empty. She stepped into the elevator. The doors started closing.
A hand stopped them. Lennox walked in. Skye’s heart stopped.
He didn’t look at her. Just pressed a button. Stood on the opposite side.
The elevator moved. Silence except for the mechanical hum. She kept her eyes down.
Tried to breathe normally. Tried not to pass out. Ten floors.
That’s all she had to survive. Her heart pounded so loud she was sure he could hear it. Nine floors.
He pulled out his phone. Typed something. Still didn’t acknowledge her existence.
Eight floors. She risked a glance. Saw his face in profile.
Older now. More lines. But the same cold expression.
The same man who left her to die. Seven floors. Her hands clenched into fists.
Nails digging into palms. She wanted to say something. Anything.
“I’m your daughter. I’m alive. You failed.”
But she stayed silent. Six floors. He sighed.
Annoyed at something on his phone. Like the weight of the world was on him. Like he was the victim.
Five floors. Skye’s chest tightened. She pressed a hand to it.
Trying to keep her heart steady. Four floors. Lennox glanced at her.
Brief. Dismissive. His eyes passed over her like she was nothing.
Then back to his phone. Three floors. She’d imagined this moment a thousand times.
What she’d say. How she’d confront him. But standing here, trapped in this small box with him, she realized something.
He had all the power. All the resources. All the control.
And she had nothing but anger and a truth no one would believe. Two floors. The elevator dinged.
Ground floor. Lennox walked out first. Didn’t look back.
Disappeared through the lobby doors into a waiting car. Skye stepped out after. Legs shaking.
She made it outside, around the corner, then collapsed against a wall. Her whole body trembled. Her heart raced.
Her vision blurred. She slid down to sit on the cold sidewalk. People walked past.
No one stopped. She pulled out her phone. Stared at Elias’s number.
Her finger hovered over the call button. She needed someone. Anyone.
But she didn’t press it. Instead, she put the phone away. Stood up.
Wiped her face. She’d come too far to break now. Too far to need saving.
She was going to finish this. Even if it killed her. After six months of rejections and dead ends, opportunity finally came.
Not through applications or networking. Through desperation. Draytech needed someone for a new transparency initiative.
Some PR move to improve their image after a minor scandal about tax havens. They wanted a junior analyst who could review internal processes and make recommendations. Low level.
Temporary. Barely a step up from what Skye was already doing. But it meant access to higher-level systems.
Better files. Real information. She applied immediately.
The interview was different this time. Three people instead of one. Sharper questions.
More scrutiny. “Why do you want this position?” “I believe transparency is essential for sustainable business practices.” Corporate speak.
They loved it. “Can you handle working with sensitive information?” “I understand the importance of confidentiality and discretion.” “You’ll be reporting directly to senior management.”
“Can you handle that pressure?” She thought about growing up poor. Working three jobs at 16.
Watching Elias destroy himself. Nearly dying multiple times from a heart that didn’t work right. “Pressure doesn’t scare me.”
They exchanged looks. Impressed or skeptical, she couldn’t tell. Two weeks later, she got the email.
“Congratulations. Please report to the main Draytech building on Monday.” The main building.
Where Lennox worked. Her heart did that skip thing. But this time, from excitement, not fear. She was moving up.
The new office was different. Still corporate. Still cold.
But cleaner. Nicer chairs. Better computers.
People here dressed sharper. Talked faster. Moved with purpose.
Skye kept her head down. Did her work. Stayed invisible.
But she listened to everything. Lunch conversations revealed power dynamics. Who reported to whom? Who had influence? Who was vulnerable? She learned the rhythms of the building.
When executives arrived. When they left. Where they went.
She learned which departments talked to each other and which ones didn’t. She learned where the security cameras had blind spots. All of it went into her mental file.
Stored perfectly in her steel-trap memory. At night, she stayed late. Reading reports.
Following money trails. Building her map of Draytech’s operations. She found more irregularities.
More things that didn’t quite make sense. Shell companies and offshore accounts. Payments labeled as consulting fees that went nowhere.
Tax strategies that technically weren’t illegal but definitely weren’t ethical. Lennox had built his empire carefully. Every questionable move buried under layers of legitimate business.
But Skye had time. And patience. And a memory that forgot nothing.
She started documenting everything. Taking screenshots on her personal phone. Making notes in encrypted files at home.
Building a case. Slowly. Carefully.
Three months in, she got called to a meeting. Her supervisor looked stressed. “We need someone to prepare a presentation for the leadership retreat next month.”
“Internal processes. Efficiency recommendations. That kind of thing.”
“I can do that.” “It’s high profile. Lennox will be there.”
“Other executives. You sure you can handle it?” Her stomach dropped. But her voice stayed steady.
“Yes.” “Good. You have three weeks.”
After the meeting, Skye sat at her desk. Hands shaking under the table where no one could see. A leadership retreat.
With Lennox. This was it. The opportunity she’d been waiting for.
She pulled up the retreat details. Read through the agenda. “Team building and strategic planning in a relaxed mountain setting.”
Mountain setting. Her chest tightened. She kept reading.
The location was in the Cascades. Near several luxury lodges. Near the same mountains where everything began.
A plan started forming in her head. Dangerous. Risky.
Maybe impossible. But possible. She could propose the specific location.
Design the agenda. Control the setting. Lead him back to the place he left her.
Make him face it. Make him remember. Not with evidence or lawyers or public exposure.
With the truth. In the place where it all started. She spent the next three weeks preparing.
Built a professional presentation about transparency and leadership. Made it good enough that no one would question her recommendations. Then she quietly suggested a specific lodge for the retreat.
One she’d researched carefully. “This location offers excellent facilities and the right atmosphere for executive alignment.” Her supervisor approved it without hesitation.
Lennox’s assistant approved it. Nobody questioned why she chose that particular place. Nobody knew it was fifteen miles from where Skye Drayton was left to die.
The retreat was scheduled for late October. Two weeks away. Skye confirmed her attendance.
Booked her travel. Then she did something she hadn’t done in months. She called Elias.
He answered on the second ring. “Skye?” His voice cracked. Like he’d been waiting for this call since she left.
“I need your help,” she said. “Anything. Name it.”
“I need you to meet me. In the mountains. The ones where you found me.”
Silence. Then, “What are you planning?” “Something that ends this, one way or another.” “Skye?” “Are you with me or not?” More silence.
She could hear him breathing, thinking. “I’m with you,” he finally said. “Always.”
She closed her eyes. Relief mixed with fear. “I’ll send you the details.”
“Don’t tell anyone. And Elias?” “Yeah?” “Bring the envelope. The one you never spent.”
“I need it.” She hung up before he could ask why. Sat back in her chair, heart pounding.
Two weeks until the retreat. Two weeks until Lennox Drayton would return to the scene of his worst crime. And this time, his dead daughter would be waiting for him.
The company shuttle left at six in the morning. Twelve executives. Three assistants.
Skye. Everyone complained about the early start. About leaving the city.
About spending a weekend doing trust exercises. Skye said nothing. Just stared out the window as the shuttle climbed into the mountains.
The roads got narrower. Trees pressed in from both sides. Every turn brought back something.
A smell. A sound. A feeling.
Her chest got tighter with each mile. Someone asked if she was okay. “Fine.”
“Just carsick.” They believed her. The lodge appeared after two hours.
Massive. Expensive. All wood and glass and luxury…
