Chapter 7 - Unfinished Business
Back in New York, perched high above Manhattan in Vantage Capital’s sleek midtown headquarters, Amelia Clare sat at her glass- topped desk reviewing a fresh stack of acquisition briefs.
The Northstar deal was officially closed, the ink dry, the wire transfers completed, the new board installed. For most people, it would have been the career-defining victory of a lifetime. For Amelia, it was simply Tuesday.
Her phone buzzed beside her keyboard.
It was Marcus Thorne.
Dinner tonight? Celebration drinks at Le Bernardin?
Amelia looked at the blinking screen, then out the window at the glittering expanse of the Manhattan skyline stretching out beneath the autumn stars.
She typed back: Too tired, Marcus. I’m ordering Thai food and going to bed by nine.
Fair enough, Marcus replied. By the way, Julian Sterling sent a package to the office for you.
Amelia raised an eyebrow. What kind of package?
A heavy one. Looks expensive.
Ten minutes later, a Vantage security guard knocked softly on her office door and placed a small, elegant black velvet box on her desk.
Amelia untied the silver ribbon and lifted the lid.
Inside, resting on a bed of black silk, was a custom-engraved silver luggage tag. Embossed across the polished metal in clean, bold lettering were the words:
AMELIA CLARE
PERMANENT PRIORITY ONE — SEAT 1A
No Override Required.
Beneath the tag was a handwritten note on heavy cardstock, bearing Julian Sterling’s elegant, slashing signature:
Ms. Clare,
Consider this your permanent insurance policy against automated algorithms and overzealous gate crew. Safe travels.
May you like
— J.S.
Amelia stared at the silver tag for a long moment. Then a slow, genuine smile spread across her face. She picked it up, turned it over in her fingers, and tossed it gently into her laptop bag right beside her passport.
