Chapter 4 - THE GLASS TOWER AND THE SNAKES
At 8:30 AM on Monday morning, a polished black Lincoln Navigator pulled up to the curb outside Leah’s apartment building.
Leah stepped out onto the sidewalk holding Ember’s hand. Leah was wearing her one good interview suit—a navy blue skirt and blazer she had ironed three times the night before. Ember was wearing a simple, clean yellow dress with new white shoes that Leah had bought at a discount store using her last twenty dollars.
The driver, a tall, polite man named Arthur, opened the door for them. "Good morning, Miss Mercer. Mr. Rowan is waiting for you at headquarters."
Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Rowan Tower—a ninety-story glass skyscraper dominating the downtown skyline.
Arthur escorted them through the marble lobby, past security checkpoints, and directly into a private elevator that whisked them up to the 80th floor.
When the elevator doors opened, Leah was greeted by a breathtaking view of the city, marble floors, and glass-walled offices. Standing in the center of the executive suite, holding a tablet, was Maya Rowan, accompanied by a kindly, older woman with gray hair.
"Ember!" Maya squealed, running across the floor.
"Maya!" Ember cheered, breaking free from Leah's grip.
The older woman walked over, smiling warmly. "Good morning, Miss Mercer. I'm Mrs. Gable, the director of the Rowan On-Site Early Learning Center. Mr. Rowan asked me to take the girls down to the play area while you have your meeting."
Leah looked at Ember, who was already holding Maya's hand, eagerly looking at a room filled with books, art supplies, and toys.
"Go ahead, sweetie," Leah smiled. "Be good."
As the children walked away with Mrs. Gable, a sharp, condescending voice echoed from the hallway to the left.
"So... you're the woman Calder met at the amusement park."
Leah turned.
Walking toward her was a woman in her early thirties, wearing an immaculate white designer suit, her platinum blonde hair styled into a sleek bob. Her eyes were sharp, scanning Leah from her slightly outdated navy blazer down to her plain black pumps with obvious disdain.
Her name was Julianna Vance—Senior Vice President of Corporate Strategy, and the daughter of one of Rowan Enterprises' largest institutional shareholders. Julianna had spent the last eighteen months trying to position herself as the next Mrs. Calder Rowan, using every corporate tactic to get close to the widowed CEO.
"I'm Leah Mercer," Leah replied calmly, extending her hand.
Julianna didn't take it. She crossed her arms, leaning against a glass desk.
"I know who you are, Leah," Julianna sneered softly. "I read the security report from Oakridge. A unemployed, broke mother who managed to manipulate Calder using his daughter’s grief. It’s quite a parlor trick."
Leah felt her blood run cold, but she kept her posture straight. "I didn't manipulate anyone, Miss Vance."
"Please," Julianna scoffed. "Calder is a brilliant businessman, but when it comes to Maya, he is vulnerable. You saw an opening and took it. But let me make one thing crystal clear to you: the Rowan Family Foundation is a fifty-million-dollar entity. We do not hand administrative power over to charity cases off the street."
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"If you have an issue with Mr. Rowan's decisions, I suggest you take it up with him," Leah said, her voice dropping into an icy, steady tone.
Julianna’s eyes narrowed into slit-like glares. "Oh, I will. The Board of Directors is meeting in ten minutes. And I am going to make sure your little 'interview' ends before it even begins."
