Rachel Donovan, customer relations manager, mid-forties—one of the rare people whose compassion hadn’t been polished away by years in finance. She bent down to Chloe’s level.
“Hi there,” she said gently. “What’s your name?”
“Chloe.”
“And whose card is that?”
“My mom’s,” she replied. “She said it belongs to me now.”
Rachel didn’t ask where her mother was. She understood enough.
“I’ll help you,” she said softly. “Come with me.”
As they crossed the lobby, Chloe kept her eyes on the floor, counting steps to steady herself. She had practiced the sentence all morning. If there was nothing on the card, she would stop believing in her mother’s last promise: You’re going to be okay.
At the service desk, Rachel frowned. “This account is inactive,” she murmured. “I need executive authorization.”
She glanced toward a glass office at the back.
Inside sat Alexander Grant.
Alexander Grant wasn’t just wealthy—he was influential. A self-made billionaire and financial strategist, often featured in business magazines beside words like visionary and relentless. He wasn’t known for patience.
That morning, he was the only executive authorized to access dormant trust accounts.