"Six years."
"And how would you describe the way visitors are treated?"
Marcus hesitated.
Maya waited.
"Honestly?" he asked.
"Especially honestly."
He glanced toward the empty reception desk.
"It depends on who they are."
Maya nodded slowly.
"Explain."
"Some people arrive in expensive cars, and the staff practically run to open the doors for them. Other people come in wearing work clothes, carrying delivery boxes, or looking nervous because they've never been in an office like this before. They get treated differently."
"Have you witnessed that yourself?"
"Yes."
"Did you report it?"
Marcus looked uncomfortable.
"Once."
"What happened?"
"My supervisor told me to concentrate on security and leave reception matters to reception."
"Did you continue reporting incidents?"
"No."
"Why?"
He gave a small, humorless smile.
"Because I have a family to support."
Maya understood.
She had heard that answer in different forms throughout her life. It was the answer of people who knew something was wrong but had learned that speaking up could cost them the little stability they possessed.
"Marcus, I can't promise that every concern will be resolved exactly as you want. But I can promise that no one will be punished simply for telling the truth."
He nodded.
"Thank you, ma'am."
Maya continued toward the elevator.
Behind her, Marcus called out.
"Ms. Bennett?"
She turned.
"There's something else."
"What is it?"
He lowered his voice.
"Before Ms. Sterling was placed on leave, she asked me to make sure the security footage from this morning was saved."
Maya frowned.
"Why would she do that?"
"I don't know. But she specifically asked whether the camera near the entrance recorded your conversation."
"Did you tell her?"
"I said the footage was automatically stored."
"Was that all?"
Marcus hesitated.
"No, ma'am. She asked whether anyone could delete it."
Maya studied him.
"And what did you say?"
"That only authorized personnel could request changes to the system."
"Good."
Marcus looked down.
"She didn't seem happy."
Maya thanked him and entered the elevator.
The doors closed.
For the first time that evening, she wondered whether Vanessa had been frightened only by the discovery of Maya's identity—or whether she had been frightened by something else entirely.
Daniel was waiting in the executive office.
Two laptops were open on the conference table. Several printed documents lay beside them.
He stood when Maya entered.
"I've been reviewing the messages."
"Anything significant?"
"More than I expected."
Maya took off her coat.
"Show me."
Daniel turned one of the laptops toward her.
The first message was a conversation between Vanessa and Richard Cole. It discussed the reception department's visitor screening procedures.
The second involved a request to remove an employee complaint from the company's internal reporting dashboard.
The third was particularly troubling.
A woman named Patricia Lewis had complained about being humiliated during a job interview. She had described Vanessa's behavior in detail and requested that the company review its treatment of applicants.
Instead of forwarding the complaint to Human Resources, Vanessa had sent it directly to Richard.
His reply was brief.
Close it. We don't need unnecessary attention.
Maya read the sentence twice.
"Did Patricia ever receive a response?"
"According to the records, she received an automated acknowledgment. Nothing else."
"Can we contact her?"
"Yes. Her application contains an email address and phone number."
"Please ask Human Resources to reach out. Make it clear that we want to hear her account, not pressure her into changing it."
Daniel nodded.
He opened another file.
"There's also a pattern in the access logs. Vanessa frequently bypassed the standard visitor procedure for certain people."
"Who?"
"Several executives' relatives, two personal acquaintances, and a business associate connected to Richard."
"Did they have appointments?"
"Some did. Others didn't."
Maya leaned closer.
"Was there a legitimate security reason for the exceptions?"
"Not that I can find."
"Then the policy wasn't being applied equally."
"That's what it looks like."
Maya looked at the next document.
A list of visitors had been marked with brief internal notes. Some were ordinary descriptions: vendor, applicant, client, delivery.
Others were different.
Poor presentation.
Not executive material.
Uncomfortable appearance.
Possible trouble.
Maya felt her jaw tighten.
"Who wrote these?"
"Most were entered under Vanessa's account."
"Most?"
Daniel looked at her.
"One was entered under Richard's."
Maya's eyes moved to the screen.
The visitor was described as:
Older man. Worn clothing. Insisted on speaking with management.
"What happened to him?"
Daniel opened the corresponding incident report.
"He was denied access. The report says he was directed to submit his request through the general contact form."
"Did he?"
"No. He left."
Maya looked at the date.
It was eight months earlier.
"Do we have his name?"
Daniel searched the record.
"Not here. But the visitor sign-in system may have captured it."
He entered a search request.
A moment later, a name appeared.
Samuel Carter.
Maya went very still.
Daniel noticed.
"Do you know him?"
Maya stared at the screen.
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
She closed the laptop halfway.
"He was one of the first people who believed in me."
Daniel waited.
Maya took a slow breath.
"Samuel Carter was the maintenance supervisor at the first office I ever rented. When I was twenty-four, I had barely enough money to pay the deposit. He helped me carry my equipment upstairs. When the heating system failed during winter, he stayed after his shift to repair it because he knew I couldn't afford another night in a freezing office."
"Was he a business partner?"
"No. He was simply a good man."
She looked at the date again.
"Why would he have come here?"
Daniel scrolled through the archived records.
"There's a note indicating he wanted to speak with the executive office about a personal matter."
"What personal matter?"
"It doesn't say."
Maya stood.
"Find him."
"We can try."
"Not tomorrow. Tonight."
Daniel reached for his phone.
Samuel Carter lived in a modest neighborhood on the eastern side of the city.
Maya remembered the small brick house, the narrow front porch, and the old maple tree in the yard. She had visited him years earlier, after the first major contract her company had secured.
He had been proud of her.