“Thank you for coming in on short notice,” I say.
“Of course,” she replies. “I understand the urgency.”
Professional. Neutral. Contained.
She walks me through her initial plan efficiently, anticipating my questions before I ask. She’s good. Very good.
When she finishes, I nod. “This works.”
Relief flickers across her face, subtle, quickly hidden.
She gathers her things. “I’ll coordinate with your team and send a detailed timeline by the end of the week.”
“Excellent.”
She leaves without another glance.
The door closes, and I let out a loud sigh.
I don’t move without information.
Rowan will bring me what I need.
I make my way back to my office and eagerly await the report on Lucy Bennet.
Chapter 9 - Julian
It’s after eight p.m. when Rowan returns.
The building has settled into its nighttime rhythm, lights dimmed to security levels, elevators moving only when summoned, the low, constant hum of systems that never fully sleep. Northwell was designed that way. Even at rest, it was alert. Contained.
Safe.
Rowan doesn’t knock. He never does when what he’s bringing matters.
He closes the door behind him and sets a slim black folder on my desk. Paper. Physical. Intentional.
“You asked for depth,” he says. “This is depth.”
I don’t respond. I open the folder.
Lucy Bennett.
The first page is what I expected.
Age. Thirty. Education. Clean academic history. No gaps she didn’t account for. Employment trajectory steady, upward, earned rather than inherited. Performance reviews summarized, not embellished. No language about “potential,” just results.
She doesn’t overstate herself.
That alone puts her ahead of most people in this building.
I flip the page.
The tone changes.
Mother: Marianne Bennett.
Diagnosed with systemic lupus erythematosus. Multi-system involvement. Renal complications. Periodic hospitalizations. Employment terminated due to medical instability. Insurance lapsed shortly after.
