Walking out of the private lounge, I didn't bother lingering in the hallway or replaying the conversation in my head. I'd do that later. Right now, I had work to do. Gray & Milton wasn't far, and the morning air helped clear the tiny bit of tension still clinging to after talking with her dad.
I'd tell Val about everything when I got ho. She deserved that much. But until then, I needed to focus.
By the ti I stepped into my office, the building was already fully alive—phones ringing sowhere down the hall, keyboards clacking, muted conversations drifting through the frosted glass walls. It was strangely grounding. Normal. Predictable. Sothing Charlie Moreau definitely wasn't.
I dropped into my chair, opened my laptop, and buried myself in numbers, projections, and a few overdue emails. If I kept myself busy enough, I wouldn't think about the flicker—yeah, that flicker—of acknowledgnt in his eyes.
Maybe I imagined it.
Maybe I didn't.
A little over an hour passed before soone knocked softly on my door.
"Co in," I called without looking up.
Ava's voice answered, "Uhm… sir?"
I stopped typing and glanced up. She was standing halfway inside, tablet hugged to her chest, looking unsure whether she should step in or retreat.
"Yes, Ava?"
"There's… soone here to see you," she said. "He said he brought the files."
Files.
For a second, my mind didn't catch up. Then it clicked—Charlie. He'd actually sent soone already.
That fast?
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling once. "Alright. Let him in."
Ava nodded quickly and disappeared, her flats clicking lightly as she hurried down the hall.
I rubbed the back of my neck and closed my laptop. If Charlie moved this quickly, either he was impressed, desperate, paranoid, or all three. Hard to tell with that man.
Less than a minute later, the door opened again. A man stepped inside—mid-forties maybe, clean-cut, wearing a precise navy suit that definitely didn't co off any rack. His movents were calm, practiced—soone used to handling sensitive tasks without asking why.
He held a sleek black briefcase.
"Mr. Kai Tanaka, right?" the man asked, his tone polite but clipped.
I stood and offered my hand. "Yes. That's ."
He shook it firmly. "Mr. Moreau sent to deliver these files to you."
Of course he did. Efficient. Controlled. Zero chance for anyone else at Moreau Dynamics to know what was happening.
I nodded and took the briefcase from him. It was heavier than I expected.
"Did he say anything else?" I asked.
The man shook his head. "No, sir."
Of course not.
Typical.
Charlie wasn't the type to say more than what was absolutely necessary—especially not when it involved .
"Thank you," I said.
"You're welco, sir." He gave a slight bow—not a deep one, just a respectful dip of his head—then turned and left as quietly as he'd arrived.
When the door clicked shut, the room felt oddly still. Too still. Like even the buzz of the lights above had dimd out of respect for the mont.
I set the briefcase on my desk and sat down again, my fingers lingering on the tal clasps.
This was real now.
Not an idea. Not speculation. Not a theory built from whispers and numbers.
Real.
Charlie had trusted with sothing internal—sothing big enough that he didn't want his own staff handling it. Sothing sensitive enough that giving it to an outsider was safer than dealing with his own company.
And he'd chosen .
I wasn't sure how I felt about that. Not yet.
Part of wanted to smirk, because maybe—just maybe—he was starting to see that I wasn't so random guy who'd walked into his daughter's life without value.
But another part of knew better. This wasn't about . This was about the company he'd built, the threat at its throat, and the need to move fast before Benjamin Otavio made his next move.
I exhaled slowly and tapped a finger on the briefcase. A single, dull thud echoed from inside—papers. Lots of them.
"Alright," I muttered to myself. "Let's see what you've been hiding."
---
The files were… a lot.
For two hours straight, I combed through them—line by line, contract by contract, transaction by transaction—looking for anything that scread fraud, manipulation, inconsistency, shell accounts, anything.
But everything looked clean.
Too clean.
Transactions were perfectly structured, acquisitions followed clear regulatory paths, capital flows matched audited declarations from Vanguard Ark Investnts. Every number lined up a little too neatly. Even the Protheus Acquisition Index that Lucien signed—the sa index that gave Otavio leverage—looked spotless.
And that was the problem.
No investnt company with this aggressive an expansion profile had a spotless trail. Not in the real world. Not unless soone was washing the trail so thoroughly even blood stains would shine like glass.
My fingers paused on a page. Sothing tugged at the back of my mind.
Vanguard Ark Investnts.
Investnt company.
Investnt.
I leaned back, rubbing my jaw.
Investnt company…
Trent.
I reached for my phone, and pressed dial.
He picked up on the second ring. "Don't tell you and Celestia argued again."
I rolled my eyes—hard. "Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence."
"I'm just saying," Trent continued dramatically, "every ti you call unexpectedly, one of two things happened: either you and Celestia aren't in good terms and you need emotional support, or you discovered so new existential crisis."
"That's rich coming from you."
"Hey," he countered, "my crises are predictable. Yours are like… seasonal hurricanes that don't follow weather patterns."
I couldn't help the small laugh that slipped out. "Relax. We didn't argue."
"Good," he replied, relieved. "Because if she ever leaves you, I'm siding with her. Just so you know."
"I'm hanging up."
"No, no—wait!" he rushed. "Fine, fine. What happened? You sound like you're in serious-mode."
He wasn't wrong.
"Okay," I said, leaning forward, elbows on my desk. "I t Charlie today."
There was silence.
Not the brief processing kind—more like the Trent trying to confirm he heard what he thought he heard kind.
Then—
} "I'm sorry, WHAT?"
"Don't shout."
"Kai," he said slowly, "did you say you t Charlie George Moreau? As in Val's dad Charlie? As in your sworn nesis Charlie? The man who looks at you like you kicked his childhood pet?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. "It's a long story."
"I wanna hear it all." He said imdiately.
"Trent—focus."
} "But—"
"Focus, bud."
He let out a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I'm all ears."
I nodded to myself and leaned back again. "Charlie sent so files. A lot of files actually. Everything tied to Otavio's acquisition of Moreau Dynamics shares, fund movents around the board, subsidiary investnts, even the Protheus Acquisition Index Lucien signed last quarter."
"Let guess...the files are clean aren't they?" Trent muttered.
"Too clean," I replied. "Like soone cleaned them after they were used."
"Ahh," he said. "So they're either forged or sanitized."
"Could be both."
"And Charlie gave you these?" he asked again, incredulous.
"Yes."
} "And you didn't dream this?"
"I didn't dream it," I repeated flatly.
} "You sure he wasn't a stunt double or hologram?"
"Trent."
"Sorry, sorry—continue."
I shook my head but continued flipping through one of the contracts. "Otavio bought twenty-eight percent of Moreau Dynamics, but that should've taken ti. Months. Maybe even longer with the company's valuation. But the speed at which everything moved? The precision? It doesn't align with legal acquisition velocity."
"Acquisition velocity," Trent repeated
"What I'm guessing," I continued, "is that either Otavio used funds that didn't originate from Vanguard Ark Investnts… or sobody external fronted the real money."
"And the investnt company is the shield," Trent added imdiately.
"Exactly," I said. "Which ans soone bigger is involved."
Trent humd thoughtfully. "This is complicated."
"That's why I'm calling you."
"Because you love ?" he said hopefully.
"Because you're my investnt guy."
"Wow," he said dryly. "So much affection."
I ignored him and continued, "I need you to look at these files with . Not just the numbers—cross-industry patterns, acquisition trails, any known silent partners Otavio might have used before."
} "So you want to snoop."
"Yes."
"Okay, I'm in." He added, sounding a little too excited.
There was a brief pause, then Trent asked, softer than before, "Are you okay?"
I blinked. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You t her dad." He hesitated. "And he asked for your help. That's… a lot."
I stared at the briefcase.
"It is," I admitted quietly.
"You good though?" he asked again, serious this ti.
"Yeah," I said. "Just… processing. It wasn't hostile. Not friendly, but… not hostile."
"Whoa," he breathed. "Progress."
A best then he added. "When do you wanna et? Tonight?"
"Yeah, tonight sounds fine." I said.
"So tonight it is," Trent said. "My place or yours?"
"Yours," I said. "Fewer distractions."
Trent replied calmly. "Alright, bud. I'll prep so materials tonight. Send scans of whatever you want to review."
"Will do."
} "And Kai?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm serious—be careful. If Otavio is moving through sanitized channels, soone with real power is backing him. And soone like that? They don't play fair."
"…I know."
} "Good. Then I'll see you in the tonight."
"Yeah. See you."
We hung up.
The room dipped into silence, broken only by the faint hum of the AC and the soft shuffle of papers as I closed the files.
Tonight, we'd start digging.
Tonight, we'd try to piece together the truth behind the perfect lies written in these docunts.
But for now, my thoughts drifted sowhere else.
To Charlie.
To the way he looked at .
To the shift—small, almost invisible, but real enough to notice.
A window had opened.
A small one.
Barely wide enough to fit a hand.
But still—open.
I wasn't naïve enough to think this was acceptance. I hadn't earned that yet.
But what I did earn was a sliver of trust.
And a sliver was enough to start sothing.
Still, none of that mattered unless we saved Moreau Dynamics first. Without that, there wouldn't be a company for Charlie to worry about… and no peace for Val.
I closed the briefcase gently.
Tonight, everything begins.
---
To be continued...
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