"Puppy," Old Mrs. Sterling said with a fond smile.
"Excuse me?" I blinked at her, unsure if I'd heard correctly.
"My grandson. The one I've been telling you about. His nickname is Puppy." She patted my hand. "He wasn't always so stern, you know. When he was little, he used to follow me around the house with those big eyes."
I tried to picture Arthur Sterling—the intimidating CEO known for destroying companies and careers—as a small boy trailing after his grandmother. The image wouldn't form.
"That's... hard to imagine," I admitted.
Mrs. Sterling chuckled. "Oh, he'd be mortified if he knew I told you. He works so hard to maintain that fearsome reputation."
I glanced at my watch. It was nearly nine. I needed to get to work, but I couldn't just abandon the old woman.
"Mrs. Sterling, I need to go to my office today. Is there someone I can call to take you home?"
Panic flashed across her face. "No! You can't leave me. You promised to help me meet my grandson today." She clutched my arm. "Take me with you."
"To my office?" I asked incredulously.
"Why not? I won't be any trouble." Her grip tightened. "Please, Elara. I don't want to be alone."
The vulnerability in her voice tugged at my heart. Despite the complications she'd brought into my life, I couldn't help but feel protective of her.
"Alright," I sighed. "But I have meetings all morning."
"I'll be quiet as a mouse," she promised, already reaching for her handbag.
Twenty minutes later, I escorted Mrs. Sterling into the modest office building where I worked as Aurora, the research consultant. It was one of my legitimate covers—the work I did when I wasn't in my secret lab as Dr. Wilson.
My assistant Charlotte's eyes widened when she saw my companion.
"Good morning, Ms. Aurora," she said, her gaze darting between me and Mrs. Sterling. "I wasn't aware you had a guest today."
"This is Mrs. Sterling," I explained. "She'll be sitting in my office while I handle my meetings. Could you bring her some tea and make sure she's comfortable?"
Charlotte nodded, clearly curious but too professional to ask questions.
"What a lovely place you have," Mrs. Sterling commented as I showed her to the small sofa in my office. "Though it seems rather... humble for someone married to my grandson."
I bit my tongue. "I prefer to make my own way, Mrs. Sterling."
"Admirable," she said, though she looked skeptical. "Now, tell me about your plan to see him today."
I hesitated. I'd been researching Arthur Sterling all night after sending Mrs. Sterling home with my driver. A charity gala was scheduled for today at the Sterling Center—an event where he was listed as the keynote speaker.
"There's a charity event this afternoon," I said. "He's supposed to be there."
Mrs. Sterling's eyes lit up. "Perfect! We'll go together."
"I think it might be better if I go alone," I said carefully. "These events can be tiring."
She waved away my concern. "Nonsense. I'm not some fragile doll."
Before I could argue further, Charlotte knocked and entered with tea.
"Your ten o'clock is here, Ms. Aurora."
I smiled apologetically at Mrs. Sterling. "Duty calls. I'll be as quick as I can."
Three meetings later, I returned to find Mrs. Sterling absorbed in a scientific journal from my bookshelf.
"Fascinating research on renewable energy," she commented, surprising me. "Do you understand all this?"
"Most of it," I admitted, gathering my purse. "Ready for the gala?"
The Sterling Center was an imposing glass and steel structure downtown. Security was tight, but with Mrs. Sterling beside me, we were waved through without question. The ballroom was already packed with Oceanion's elite.
"Do you see him?" Mrs. Sterling asked, scanning the crowd.
I did the same, searching for Arthur's tall figure. Instead, I spotted a familiar face—Philip Mercer, Arthur's executive assistant, the man who'd intercepted me at the courthouse.
"Wait here," I told Mrs. Sterling, guiding her to a seat. "I need to check something."
I approached Philip, who was engaged in conversation with a group of businessmen. When he saw me, recognition flashed in his eyes, followed quickly by annoyance.
"Ms. Dubois," he said coolly. "This is a surprise."
"Where is he?" I demanded.
Philip smiled blandly. "I'm afraid I don't know who you're referring to."
"Don't play games. Arthur Sterling. He's supposed to be speaking today."
"There's been a change of plans. Mr. Sterling sends his regrets, but he had more important matters to attend to." His smile turned smug. "I'll be delivering his address instead."
I clenched my fists. "He's avoiding me."
"Ms. Dubois, not everything revolves around you," Philip replied. "Mr. Sterling is a busy man with multibillion-dollar responsibilities."
"Then where is he?"
Philip checked his watch. "I believe he's touring the new factory on the east side. Not that it's any of your concern."
I turned on my heel and headed back to Mrs. Sterling.
"Change of plans," I told her. "We're going to the east side factory."
Her eyes widened. "But what about the gala?"
"He's not here. He sent his assistant instead." I helped her up. "Are you up for another trip?"
"To find my grandson? Always."
The Sterling Manufacturing Plant sprawled across several acres on the city's eastern edge. Smoke billowed from massive stacks, and workers in hard hats moved purposefully between buildings.
"Wait in the car," I told Mrs. Sterling. "I'll be right back."
The security guard at the gate eyed me suspiciously. "ID and purpose of visit?"
I pulled out my Aurora consultant badge. "I have a meeting with Mr. Sterling regarding energy efficiency upgrades."
The guard checked his tablet and shook his head. "No Aurora on the schedule today."
I expected this. Arthur Sterling was thorough.
"There must be a mistake. Can you call up to verify?"
"No unauthorized calls," he said flatly. "You'll need to reschedule through proper channels."
I nodded and walked back to the car, but I wasn't giving up. I circled around to a side entrance, where I pulled out a different badge—one belonging to Dr. Wilson, the energy researcher whose patents Sterling Group had been trying to acquire for years.
The second guard's eyes widened at the sight of the badge. "Dr. Wilson? We weren't expecting you."
"Last-minute consultation," I said confidently. "Arthur Sterling requested my presence personally."
This time, the gates opened.
I moved quickly through the complex, following signs toward the administrative offices. Through the window of a large conference room, I caught a glimpse of him—Arthur Sterling, tall and commanding, leaning over blueprints with several engineers.
Our eyes met for a brief second. Even from a distance, I could see the flash of recognition, followed by anger.
Before I could move closer, Philip Mercer appeared beside me, seemingly out of nowhere.
"Ms. Dubois," he hissed. "How did you get in here?"
Behind him, I saw Arthur gesture sharply. The blinds in the conference room snapped shut.
"I need to speak with Arthur Sterling," I insisted.
"And I need to win the lottery," Philip retorted. "Neither is happening today." He signaled to security. "This woman is trespassing. Please escort her out."
Two guards approached. "Ma'am, we need you to come with us."
"This is ridiculous," I protested. "I have legitimate business—"
"Save it," Philip cut me off. "Mr. Sterling has made it abundantly clear he has no interest in meeting with you."
As the guards led me toward the exit, Philip kept pace beside me.
"Let me make something crystal clear, Ms. Dubois," he said quietly. "If you continue this harassment, we will pursue legal action. Mr. Sterling is not playing games."
"Neither am I," I shot back. "We have matters to resolve."
Philip stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "Listen carefully. Arthur Sterling doesn't know you. He doesn't want to know you. Whatever delusion you're operating under needs to stop."
"It's not a delusion when I have a marriage certificate with both our names on it."
Philip's laugh was cold. "Do you know how many women claim to have some connection to him? You're not the first to forge documents."
"I didn't forge anything!"
"Right," he scoffed. "Let me put this in terms you can't misinterpret: if you somehow manage to get past me and actually see Mr. Sterling in person, I will livestream myself eating excrement on national television. That's how confident I am that it will never happen."
The guards escorted me through the gate, where Mrs. Sterling was waiting anxiously by the car.
"Did you find him?" she asked.
I shook my head, frustration building in my chest. "He saw me, but he's avoiding me."
Mrs. Sterling patted my arm. "Don't worry, dear. He can be stubborn, but so can I. You'll meet him tonight."
"How can you be so sure?" I asked as we climbed into the car.
"Because I've arranged it, of course."
I raised my eyebrows. "When did you do that?"
"While you were in your meetings. I messaged my grandson and told him to meet us tonight." She looked pleased with herself. "He never refuses me when I ask directly."
Hope flared in my chest. "You have his number? Can I see?"
Mrs. Sterling pulled out her phone and showed me a contact simply labeled "Grandson."
"Text him," she urged. "Ask where we should meet."
With trembling fingers, I typed: "Where should we meet tonight to drop off your grandmother?"
The response came almost immediately: "No. One Manor, 8 PM."
I stared at the screen, my heart hammering. No. One Manor—the Sterling family estate. The message confirmed what I'd suspected all along.
"Mrs. Sterling," I said slowly, "I think your grandson and Arthur Sterling might be the same person."