Chapter 14 Undercover Pawn
Valenticias pov-
I stood in the lobby of Clawford Corporation frozen, Rita's poisonous words, “Girls like you, coming in through the backdoor,” rang in my ear. She’d sputtered, her eyes shining with disgust. My cheeks burned, but not with shame, with the gall of her assumption — that I, Valenticia Clawford, was here to charm my way into an undeserved job. Before I could reply, a voice, hard and authoritative, sliced through the tension.
“Enough.”
I turned to see a man striding toward us, his tailored suit indicating that he was someone to be respected. His badge said Mr. Larson, Senior Manager. Rita’s smirk wavered, but her stance did not falter.
“Ms. Valenticia is coming,” Larson said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Madam Rosanna made her appointment by herself. Is there a problem, Rita?”
Rita opened her mouth but no sound emerged. She cast me a look then muttered, “No, sir,” and retreated to the reception desk. Larson’s expression softened somewhat as he waved for me to follow.
“You’ll be coming on board as a mid-level analyst in the finance department,” he said, leading me through the crowded office. “It’s a challenging role, but Madam Rosanna thinks you’re well up to it. Prove her right.”
I nodded, my thoughts already racing. A mid-level position was ideal — not so elevated that it raised too many suspicions, but with enough access to discern the company’s inner workings.
I had to discover the truth for myself, to find the loyalties and workings that lay beneath the varnished exterior. A few that are connected to Gregor.
The finance department buzzed with activity, screens gleaming with numbers, phones vibrating , and colleagues voicing curt commands.
I was escorted to a small desk, which was already piled high with reports. When I sat down, curious eyes descended on me. Faint whispers drifted in my direction, too low to catch, but the name Gregor tangled through the silence. “One of his people controls the approvals,” one voice said. “Nothing goes forward without his say.” My wariness sharpened. Gregor’s influence I was stepping into its center.
The morning was filled with onboarding and introductions. My coworkers were nice enough, although their smiles didn’t always reach their eyes. Gregor makes a brief appearance at the team meeting. His smile was friendly, all teeth and allure, but when his eyes locked with mine, it froze, a wordless warning that sent a chill along my spine. He was hiding something—of that, I was sure. My training with Grandmother had sharpened my instincts; I noted the way he hovered near some of the team members, hand grazing their shoulders, as he spoke in lowered tones. There was a hidden agenda, and I was going to find it.
I kept my focus on the chores assigned to me, keeping my head down, but my gaze wandered. Rita, who had crept into the meeting just a bit late, kept looking toward Gregor’s office, her fingers twisting a pen nervously. Was she one of his loyalists? The thought gnawed at me. At lunch in the cafeteria, I sat down on one side of two analysts; their voices could barely be heard above the clang of trays. “Gregor’s pushing a discreet project,” one said, lowering his voice. “No board approval, only his inner circle.” The other nodded, eyes searching around. “It’s dangerous, but he’s paying for it.” My pulse quickened. A secret project? Could it have something to do with my kidnapping? The pieces were falling into place but I needed that proof.
That afternoon I called Grandmother on a secure line from a quiet corner of the office. “I’m hearing things about Gregor,” I said, my voice low. “Rumors of a project he’s keeping off the books. I don’t trust him.”
Her answer was measured, but I sensed a trace of worry. “Evidence, Valenticia, feelings aren’t enough. Gregor has been our support for years. If he’s up to something, you need solid evidence to expose him. Be careful.”
“I will,” I pledged, even as my gut told me that Gregor was no faithful cousin. I hung up, more determined than ever. “If there’s a trail, I’m gonna find it.
Back at my desk, I plunged into the financial reports, my analytics training being put into act, numbers never lied. In cross-checking budgets, I noticed something strange, a transfer of $500,000 to an offshore account marked “consulting fees.” The recipient was obscure, a shell company with no obvious relation to Clawford’s activities.
My heart raced.
This was not a clerical error; this was on purpose. One might suspect that Gregor is siphoning off money for his secret project? Or worse, was this tied to the men who had followed me that night?
___
The office was quiet as night reached, coworkers dispersing out until finally there were only a handful left. I decided to work late.
The silence was a comfort.
My finger glided across the keyboard, accessing transaction histories. The offshore account resurfaced, connected to a string of payments to a firm called Nexis Solutions. A quick search showed it was a front, registered in a tax haven and lacking public records.
My breath hitched.
This was it.
I pulled up a restricted file, my blood shaking as I watched the screen loading. The document detailed payments over the past year totalling millions of dollars, routed through Nexis Solutions. Each entry was time-stamped, some matching dates I’d been stalked or felt surveillance. My mind snapped to the gala, Gregor’s muttered threat: “This has always been my company.” Had he become desperate enough to plan my kidnapping to prevent me from taking over from the company?
A sudden sound jolted me out of my focus. My head snapped up, eyes going to the office door. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly.
I gasped, listening hard.
Nothing.
Just the servers’ hum. I held my breath, keeping it equal with the building settling. But as I returned to the screen, the door opened, slowly and deliberately. My pulse pounded; blood raced in my ears. Could it have been Gregor, knowing I was snooping? A janitor working late? Or something worse?
I pushed back from the table, the soft scrape loud in the quiet. The shadow swooped, stopping as if it just felt me. I activated my training — be calm, assess, act. I held out my phone, prepared to text Grandmother when my fingers became paralyzed as a soft voice echoed in the silence, “She’s here.”