“Who?”
Claire's eyes moved toward Gerald.
“People connected to this project.”
Gerald shook his head.
“This is insane.”
Claire ignored him.
“After Li Wei died, your grandmother disappeared from the business world.”
“She became a cleaner.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make herself invisible.”
Whitney stared at the photograph.
She suddenly remembered things from childhood that she hadn't thought about in years.
Her grandmother locking the apartment door three times every night.
Never allowing strangers inside.
Keeping an old metal box beneath the bed.
Telling Whitney never to open it.
And one sentence she had repeated whenever Whitney asked why.
Some things are safer when they stay forgotten.
Whitney looked at Claire.
“The box.”
Claire's expression changed.
“What?”
“My grandmother had a metal box.”
Victor leaned forward.
“What kind of box?”
“Small. Gray. She kept it under her bed.”
Claire stared at her.
“Do you still have it?”
Whitney swallowed.
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“When she died, I threw most of her things away.”
Claire's face fell.
“Most?”
Whitney nodded.
“But I kept a few things.”
“What?”
“Her jewelry. Some photographs. Her old recipe book.”
Claire shook her head.
“Anything else?”
Whitney thought.
Then remembered.
“There was a key.”
Victor's eyes sharpened.
“What kind of key?”
“An old brass key.”
“Where is it?”
“I don't know.”
Gerald suddenly laughed.
It was a nervous laugh.
“You're all listening to this?”
Nobody answered.
He looked around.
“A dead man. A hidden box. An old key. This is a fairy tale.”
Victor turned toward him.
“Then why are you sweating?”
Gerald's expression hardened.
“I'm not.”
“You are.”
Gerald wiped his forehead.
Claire closed the folder.
“There's something else Whitney needs to know.”
Whitney looked at her.
“What?”
“Your grandmother didn't just know Li Wei.”
She paused.
“She helped him establish his first investment fund.”
Whitney stared.
“How?”
“She translated documents.”
Whitney's eyes widened.
“Into Chinese?”
“Both directions.”
Claire smiled faintly.
“She was fluent.”
Whitney looked at the Chinese contract on the table.
Suddenly everything felt different.
Her grandmother's language skills.
Her own ability to understand Mandarin.
The old photograph.
The contract.
Li Wei.
Gerald.
It was beginning to look less like coincidence.
“Is that why you came here?”
Claire nodded.
“I received a message three days ago.”
“From whom?”
“An anonymous sender.”
“What did it say?”
Claire reached into her briefcase.
She pulled out her phone.
On the screen was a message.
The girl has grown up. Find her before they do.
Whitney stared at it.
“Who are ‘they’?”
Claire looked at Gerald.
He looked away.
Whitney noticed.
“Gerald.”
He didn't answer.
“Who are they?”
Gerald's jaw tightened.
“I don't know.”
Victor laughed.
“That's a lie.”
Gerald turned toward him.
“You know nothing.”
“I know enough.”
Victor opened his folder again.
“Your assistant, Daniel Crane, has been meeting with a man named Robert Voss.”
Gerald's expression changed.
Whitney looked between them.
“Who is Robert Voss?”
Claire answered.
“Li Wei's former business partner.”
Whitney's eyes widened.
“He's still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Claire hesitated.
“That's the problem.”
Victor continued.
“He disappeared fifteen years ago.”
Mr. Shu's lawyer looked confused.
“Why would he suddenly reappear?”
Victor looked toward Gerald.
“Because someone has been paying him.”
Gerald stood abruptly.
“This conversation is over.”
Daniel, the restaurant manager, stepped forward.
“Mr. Covington—”
Gerald ignored him.
He reached for his coat.
Victor's voice stopped him.
“If you walk out now, you're going to lose the deal.”
Gerald turned.
“You don't control this deal.”
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“Mr. Shu does.”
Gerald looked toward the older investor.
Mr. Shu was silent.
Then he spoke.
“Sit down.”
Gerald stared at him.
“Mr. Shu—”
“Sit.”
The command was quiet.
But Gerald obeyed.
He sat.
Whitney looked at Mr. Shu.
“What are you going to do?”
The older man looked at the contract.
“I am not signing anything tonight.”
Gerald's face tightened.
“But—”
“I will not invest one dollar until this matter is resolved.”
Gerald swallowed.
“That could destroy the project.”
Mr. Shu nodded.
“Then perhaps the project deserves to be destroyed.”
Gerald looked furious.
But Mr. Shu wasn't finished.
“I also want an independent translation of every document.”
He looked at Whitney.
“I want you to do it.”
Whitney blinked.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Gerald immediately objected.
“No.”
Mr. Shu looked at him.
“Why not?”
“She's not qualified.”
Whitney expected that.
But Mr. Shu smiled.
“Then you have nothing to fear.”
Gerald said nothing.
Mr. Shu turned toward Whitney.
“I will pay you.”
Whitney shook her head.
“I'm a waitress.”
“Tonight.”
He paused.
“Tomorrow, you may be something else.”
Whitney looked at Claire.
Then Victor.
Then Gerald.
She suddenly understood why everyone was interested in her.
But there was still one question she needed answered.
“Why did Victor say he needed me?”
Victor leaned forward.
“Because your grandmother left something behind.”
Whitney's heart skipped.
“What?”
“A recording.”
Claire looked surprised.
Victor continued.
“Li Wei made a recording before he died.”
“What does it say?”
“We don't know.”
“Why not?”
“Because it's encrypted.”
Whitney frowned.
“Encrypted how?”
Victor smiled.
“Not with a password.”
He pointed toward the Chinese document.
“With language.”
Whitney stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Victor reached into his pocket and placed a small USB drive on the table.
“This was found in Li Wei's old office.”
Whitney looked at it.
“There is a recording on it.”
“Have you listened to it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“We heard static.”
Whitney frowned.
“Static?”
“And one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
Victor looked directly at her.
Then he spoke in Mandarin.
Whitney recognized the words immediately.
Her face changed.
Because the sentence wasn't random.
It was something her grandmother used to say to her whenever Whitney asked why she had to keep studying.
Victor translated:
“The person who understands the words will find the truth.”
Whitney's breath caught.
Those had been her grandmother's words.
Almost exactly.
She looked at the USB drive.
Then at Victor.
“My grandmother knew about this.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Victor's expression became serious.
“Because she was the one who recorded it.”
Whitney felt the blood drain from her face.
“That can't be.”
“It can.”
Victor leaned closer.
“And that's not the worst part.”
“What is?”