Chapter 8: The Thing Derek Found
Abby started the position on a Monday.
The first week was orientation — learning the vendor contacts, the property calendar, the preferences of a household that ran on precision she had previously only observed from the outside.
The Connecticut residence.
The penthouse maintenance schedule.
The standing orders with the florist, the car service, the building management team.
She was good at it.
She had always been good at understanding how things were supposed to work.
Julian was present but not intrusive.
They spoke professionally.
He answered her questions directly.
She asked only what she needed to ask.
On Friday afternoon, he stopped in the doorway of the small office that had been set up for her off the main hall.
"How was the first week?" he asked.
"Manageable," she said.
"I have questions about the Connecticut calendar — there are two vendor contracts that overlap in March and I want to flag them before they become a problem."
"Send them to Marcus and copy me."
"Already drafted." She paused.
"Thank you.
For the position."
"Thank you for taking it."
She looked at him for a moment.
"You said you'd explain the test.
Why you started doing it."
Julian leaned against the doorframe.
"I did say that."
"You don't have to."
"No," he said.
"But I will." He was quiet for a moment.
"My father built the first version of this company.
When I was twenty-three, his personal assistant — a man he trusted completely, for twelve years — embezzled $800,000 from the family accounts.
My father had given him full access.
Never questioned it.
He considered it a sign of respect."
Abby set her pen down.
"My father didn't recover from it," Julian continued.
"Not financially — we were fine.
But something in him changed.
He became someone who trusted no one.
He d*ed believing that was wisdom." A pause.
"I designed the test because I didn't want to become him.
I thought if I could identify trustworthy people scientifically — empirically — I could protect myself without becoming closed."
"But the test made you closed in a different way," Abby said.
Julian looked at her.
"Yes.
I think it did."
"Because you stopped believing anyone would pass."
"Thirty-one people," he said.
"Eight years."
"And then I almost took it," she said.
"I touched the money."
"You touched it," he said.
"And then you chose."
The office was quiet for a moment.
"My mother used to say that character isn't what you do when things are easy," Abby said.
"It's what you do in the five seconds after you almost do the wrong thing."
Julian was still.
"She sounds like she was remarkable," he said.
"She was exhausted," Abby said.
"But yes.
Remarkable too."
She picked her pen back up.
Julian straightened from the doorframe.
"The March contracts," he said.
"Copy me when you send them."
"Already noted," she said.
He left.
She sat for a moment, pen in hand, not writing.
Then her phone buzzed.
Daniel.
She answered.
"Abby." His voice was different.
Not tight this time.
Careful.
"Someone called me today.
Said they were doing a background check on you for a new employer.
Asked about Dad.
About the facility.
About the debt."
Abby went still.
"What did they ask specifically?" she said.
"Whether the debt was causing you stress.
Whether you'd ever talked about doing something — they said *unconventional* — to solve the financial situation." A pause.
"Abby, it felt wrong.
It felt like they were trying to get me to say something bad about you."
"Did you?"
"Of course not." His voice sharpened.
"But who was it?
Julian Cross's people already did a check before you started.
Why would they call again?"
Abby looked at the doorway where Julian had been standing sixty seconds ago.
"It wasn't his people," she said.
"Then whose?"
She thought about Derek Holt's voice on the phone.
*His attention tends to move quickly.
I've seen him make offers like this before.*
"I'm going to find out," she said.
"Don't talk to anyone else who calls.
No matter what they say the call is about."
"Abby—"
"I mean it, Daniel.
No one."
She hung up.
She sat for exactly three seconds.
Then she stood up, walked down the hall, and knocked on Julian's office door.
"Come in," he said.
She opened the door.
"Someone called my brother today.
They were asking questions designed to make him say something that could be used against me."
Julian's expression didn't move.
But his hand, resting on the desk, went very still.
"Sit down," he said.
"I'd rather stand."
"All right." He looked at her directly.
"I know who it was."
The room went quiet.
"You know," she said.
"I've known for several days that Derek was looking into you.
I was documenting it.
I didn't move fast enough." His jaw tightened.
"I'm sorry.
That call to your brother should not have happened."
"You're sorry," Abby said.
"That's the second time you've said that to me."
"Because I keep being in the wrong."
"Mr.
Cross." Her voice was steady.
"What exactly is Derek Holt trying to do?"
Julian looked at her for a long moment.
"He's trying to remove you," he said.
"Before you become someone I trust."
The words landed in the room like something physical.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because if I trust you," Julian said, "I become harder to manage."
Abby looked at him.
"How long has he been managing you?" she said.
May you like
Julian didn't answer immediately.
But the answer was already in the room.
