Chapter 22 – A Desperate Plea in a Secret Citadel
I stared at my phone for a long moment after hanging up with Julian, my jaw clenched tight. Even when he couldn’t help me, he had to make it about himself–had to insert himself into my life where he no longer belonged.
One hundred million yuan. The numbers seemed to float in the air before me, mocking me with their impossibility. Two days left to retrieve my mother’s bracelet. The thought of Ivy discovering its existence and somehow wheedling Julian into buying it for her made my stomach
churn.
There was only one option left.
With trembling fingers, I scrolled through my contacts until I found the number Butler Winslow had given me. I’d saved it after that surreal experience at the hospital, never thinking I’d actually use it. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the call button.
The phone rang exactly three times before a crisp, professional voice answered. “This is Winslow.”
“Hello, Mr. Winslow. This is Hazel Ashworth. We met at-”
“Of course, Miss Ashworth. I remember you perfectly.” His tone warmed slightly. “How may I be
of assistance?”
I fidgeted with a loose thread on my sleeve. “I was hoping… I need to speak with Mr. Sterling about an urgent matter. Is that possible?”
There was the briefest pause. “Let me check his schedule. May I place you on hold?”
“Of course.”
The line went silent. I paced my apartment, my heart hammering against my ribs. What was I doing? Damien Sterling wasn’t my friend. He wasn’t even really an acquaintance. He was some impossibly wealthy, powerful man who’d shown me unexpected kindness twice.
And I was about to ask him for one hundred million yuan.
The line clicked back. “Miss Ashworth? Mr. Sterling can see you tomorrow at three PM. Would that work for you?”
Tomorrow! Relief flooded through me. “Yes, that would be perfect. Thank you.”
“Very good. Please come to the Sterling Enterprise headquarters at 275 Financial Avenue, Tower A. Ask for Mr. Kendall at reception. He’ll escort you to Mr. Sterling’s office.”
I scribbled down the address. “I’ll be there. Thank you so much, Mr. Winslow.”
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After ending the call, I sank onto my couch, suddenly lightheaded. I had no idea if Damien would help me or if I was making a terrible mistake by asking. But I had to try. For my mother. For the last piece of her I might ever recover.
***
The next day, I stood before my closet, agonizing over what to wear. This wasn’t a date, but it wasn’t exactly a business meeting either. I finally settled on a navy blue dress I’d designed myself–professional but with subtle, elegant details that showcased my skills without being
flashy.
At 2:30 PM, my taxi pulled up to the address Butler Winslow had given me, and confusion immediately set in. Instead of the gleaming office tower I expected, I found myself facing a sprawling park with a small pond at its center.
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I asked the driver.
He nodded, pointing across the park. “275 Financial Avenue is on the other side. You can walk through or go around.”
I thanked him, paid the fare, and decided to walk through the park. The autumn air was crisp, and golden leaves crunched beneath my heels. As I reached the other side, I froze in my tracks.
A massive complex loomed before me, surrounded by a high security fence. A discreet sign read: “Sterling Weapons and Equipment Research Institute.” Armed guards stood at attention by the entrance gate, and I could see security cameras tracking my approach.
This couldn’t be right. I double–checked the address on my phone. 275 Financial Avenue.
My stomach dropped. The Sterling family was involved in weapons research? Suddenly, Damien Sterling’s mysterious power made a disturbing kind of sense.
I approached the gate hesitantly. A guard stepped forward.
“ID, please.”
“I–I have an appointment with Mr. Sterling, I managed, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. “My name is Hazel Ashworth.”
The guard consulted a tablet, then nodded. “You’re expected. Please proceed to the main building reception.”
The gate slid open silently, and I walked through, feeling like I’d crossed some invisible boundary into another world. The campus was immaculate, with modern buildings arranged around a central courtyard. Employees in suits and lab coats moved purposefully between buildings, many wearing security badges.
The main building’s glass doors parted automatically as I approached. Inside, a sleek reception desk was staffed by two serious–looking men in dark suits.
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“I’m Hazel Ashworth,” I said. “I’m here to see-”
“Mr. Kendall will be with you momentarily,” one of them interrupted, his eyes already returning to his computer screen.
I stood awkwardly in the lobby, taking in the minimalist decor. No family photos or personal touches–just the Sterling company logo etched into the marble wall. The atmosphere was cold, professional, and vaguely intimidating.
“Miss Ashworth?”
I turned to see a tall, lean man with wire–rimmed glasses approaching.
“I’m Arthur Kendall, Mr. Sterling’s executive assistant. Please follow me.”
He led me through a security checkpoint where I was required to surrender my phone and pass through a body scanner before guiding me into a private elevator. We rode in silence to the top floor, where the doors opened directly into a hushed reception area.
“Please wait here,” Mr. Kendall said, gesturing to a seating area. “Mr. Sterling is concluding an important meeting. Would you care for water or coffee?”
“Water, please.”
As Mr. Kendall stepped away, I noticed that one wall of the waiting area was actually a semi–transparent partition. Through it, I could make out a large conference room where several figures stood around a table.
Damien Sterling stood at the head, his back rigid, hands planted firmly on the table as he leaned forward. Even from this distance, I could see the cold fury in his expression as he addressed the group. This wasn’t the polite, elegant man I’d met before. This was someone else entirely- someone with absolute authority who was currently dressing down a room full of executives. “Unacceptable,” I heard him say, his voice carrying despite the partition. “The prototype failed three basic safety protocols. If this had been deployed in the field…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. The men and women around the table seemed to shrink under his gaze.
“You have forty–eight hours to identify where the failure occurred. If you can’t, I’ll find someone who can.”
My throat went dry. This was the real Damien Sterling–a powerful man who commanded one of the most sensitive and critical industries in the nation. And here I was, about to ask him for money like we were old friends.
What had I been thinking?
Mr. Kendall returned with my water. “Mr. Sterling will be with you shortly.”
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I nodded, trying to hide my growing panic. The meeting in the conference room was breaking up, executives filing out with grim faces. None of them spared me a glance as they passed.
I watched as Damien remained in the empty conference room, reviewing something on a tablet. His expression was still severe, his shoulders tense under his impeccable suit. This man could crush me like an insect if he wanted to. He could probably have me arrested just for seeing whatever classified information had been discussed in that meeting
I should leave. This was a mistake. A massive, potentially dangerous mistake.
But before I could move, Mr. Kendall was standing before me again. “Mr. Sterling will see you
How”
He led me to the door of the conference room, knocked once, and stepped aside.
As Lentered, Damien looked up from his tablet. Instantly, his expression transformed. The cold intensity melted away, replaced by the polite, composed demeanor recognized. It was like watching someone slip on a mask–though I wasn’t sure which version was the mask and which
was real
He set down the tablet and rose from his chair, straightening his already perfect tie.
“Miss Ashworth” he said, his voice warm and smooth as honey, nothing like the sharp tones I’d heard moments before. “I’ve made you wait”
I stood frozen in the doorway, suddenly terrified of what I’d come to ask. What would happen when I tested the limits of this strange, tenuous connection between us? Would the mask fall away again to reveal the man I’d just glimpsed–a man accustomed to absolute power and unquestioned authority?
There was no turning back now. I needed his help, I needed it desperately.
And I had no idea if he would give it.
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