Chapter 2 The Billionaire in the Hoodie

Dani's Tesla smelled like coconut air freshener and secrets.

The second we pulled away from the Delacroix Gala, I slumped into the passenger seat, my phone clutched like a grenade that could detonate with one more anonymous text.

Neither of us spoke for the first five minutes. The silence wasn't awkward it was loaded. Like we were both waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Okay," Dani said finally, gripping the wheel like it had personally betrayed her. "Explain it to me again, but slower."

I rubbed my temples. "Alec said my mom's name showed up in a Delacroix legal audit. Then I got an email from a law firm saying I might be entitled to inheritance. And then bam mystery threat text."

"You're sure it wasn't spam?"

I gave her a look. "Spam doesn't know my name. Or tell me to stop digging."

"Right. Creepy. I don't like it."

I stared out the window, the city lights blurring into gold and neon streaks. "Same."

"So... what now?"

That was the question, wasn't it?

I'd spent my entire life working for scraps grants, scholarships, hand-me-downs. Now, suddenly, someone was dangling money I never knew existed, and another person wanted me to back off before I even asked why.

It didn't make sense. My mom wasn't rich. She wasn't powerful. She was a single parent who lived paycheck to paycheck and drank store-brand coffee.

Unless she was something else, too something she never told me.

"We go to the law firm," I said. "First thing tomorrow."

Dani nodded, then side-eyed me. "And what about Alec?"

"What about him?"

"You're really gonna pretend like he didn't drop a mystery-bomb on you, smirk like a Bond villain, and walk away?"

I groaned. "I don't trust him."

"You don't trust anyone. But come on, you have to admit, he's... something."

"He's dangerous."

Dani snorted. "Dangerous hot."

I didn't respond. Because unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.

The next morning hit like a hangover I hadn't earned.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand three missed calls from an unknown number and a calendar reminder I hadn't set:

"Appointment: Sterling & Parrish LLP – 10:30 AM."

"Creepy," I mumbled, sitting up in bed.

The gala felt like a fever dream now. But the text? The email? Alec's warning?

Very real.

Dani rolled over in the guest bed, blinking groggily. "Tell me that's coffee," she muttered.

"It's dread," I replied, checking my messages again. Still nothing from Alec. Not that I wanted him to text. Or cared. Obviously.

She sat up, hair a halo of messy curls. "We still going?"

"I have questions that need answers," I said, tossing on jeans and a cropped hoodie. "And if someone's messing with me, I want to know who and why."

Fifteen minutes later, we were downtown, staring up at a mirrored skyscraper with a name that sounded way too expensive to be in my vocabulary.

Sterling & Parrish LLP. High-profile law firm. Zero Yelp reviews. That alone made me nervous.

We rode a glass elevator to the 33rd floor. The receptionist wore all black and didn't blink once as she escorted us into a sleek, cold meeting room with a single glass of water already poured.

"Ms. Monroe?" said a woman in a tailored navy suit, entering with a folder in hand. Her heels clicked like gunfire.

"That's me," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.

"I'm Ava Parrish. Your mother's file was flagged in our recent trust estate reconciliation."

I stared at her. "What does that mean?"

She opened the folder. "Sylvia Monroe was once listed as a beneficiary of a dormant trust set up by the Delacroix estate under the name 'Project Huron.'"

My head spun. "I've never heard of that. She never mentioned anything."

"It was sealed in 2004. Unusual, considering most beneficiaries are notified by default. This one was... manually redacted."

Dani leaned forward. "You're saying someone erased her name?"

Parrish gave a tight nod. "Or tried to. Until recently, it was buried in a category labeled 'Irregular Holdings.' But after a recent forensic audit prompted by Mr. Alec Delacroix it was rediscovered."

Wait. Alec prompted this?

"He was looking into his grandfather's offshore accounts," she continued, "and stumbled across an old ledger."

I couldn't breathe. "And my mom's name was in it."

"Yes. Along with a payment trail. Several monthly deposits. Disguised."

"Disguised how?"

"Hospital invoices. Care stipends. Prenatal care."

My blood went cold. "Prenatal?"

Parrish looked at me, then nodded.

It hit me like a sucker punch to the gut. "You're saying my mom was... pregnant when this trust was set up?"

Dani's hand found mine under the table.

"Yes," Parrish said carefully. "And based on the timeline, there's a possibility that Project Huron was... a cover for inheritance transfers to unacknowledged heirs."

I almost laughed. "You're saying I'm Alec Delacroix's sister?"

"No," Parrish said quickly. "Not necessarily. There are multiple heirs, and the connection is... complicated. But you may be linked through a branch of the family not publicly known."

"So you're saying my mom had a kid with someone from that family."

"We're not legally authorized to assume paternity without a test. But based on our records, it's possible your mother was entitled to more than she received and someone went to great lengths to hide it."

I felt like the ground under me shifted.

"What happens now?" I asked.

"We initiate a discovery claim. We'll need to subpoena full trust records. Possibly DNA tests, if it escalates."

"And if it does escalate?"

"You become a threat," Parrish said plainly. "To someone very powerful."

Dani and I walked out in stunned silence.

"I need fries," she announced suddenly. "Something greasy. Something artery-clogging. My brain's on fire."

We found a diner a block away and slid into a booth like two girls who just found out they might be secret trust fund babies from a billionaire bloodline.

"I can't believe this," I whispered.

Dani dunked a fry in ketchup. "So your mom might've had a secret relationship with one of the Delacroix elders, got shut out of the trust, and someone's trying to keep that buried."

"Someone rich," I said. "And scared."

"Which means Alec might actually be the least threatening Delacroix."

As if summoned, my phone buzzed. This time, it was him.

Alec: We need to talk. Where are you?

I didn't answer. Instead, I typed:

Me: Just left Sterling & Parrish. Thanks for the tip, I guess.

He replied immediately.

Alec: That wasn't a tip. It was a warning. Someone's already watching you.

Goosebumps rippled up my spine.

Me: Then maybe they should say hi next time.

Alec: Don't joke. Come to the archives tonight. Midnight. I'll explain everything.

Me: Why should I trust you?

His reply came three dots... then:

Alec: Because you're not the only one who lost someone. And if you dig alone, you won't make it to the truth.

I stared at the screen. Dani leaned over. "Midnight archive meeting? That's very 'Gossip Girl meets Cold Case.'"

"I should say no."

"But you're going."

"Of course I'm going."

The Kensington Prep archives were housed in the oldest building on campus built in the 1800s, barely renovated, full of dusty records and rumors about secret societies. It was where rich legacies buried things they didn't want found.

I slipped in through the side door at 11:58 PM. The halls were dead silent, lit only by exit signs and a few emergency lights. My sneakers squeaked on the marble.

I found Alec already inside, leaning against a metal filing cabinet, hoodie up, jaw tight.

"You came," he said.

"Couldn't resist the drama."

He handed me a folder. "Read."

Inside were yellowed documents, faded invoices, and an old photo.

I froze.

My mom, seventeen. Smiling. Holding hands with a boy I didn't recognize but something about him looked familiar. The nose. The mouth.

"This is..." I whispered.

"My uncle," Alec said. "He died in a boating accident. Or so they said. But I found out he disappeared right after that photo was taken. And Sylvia Monroe was the last person seen with him."

My head spun. "So you think they were together?"

"They were more than that," Alec said. "I think they were in love. And I think someone in my family made sure it ended."

I looked up at him. "Why tell me this?"

"Because your mom didn't just lose money. She lost safety. Protection. Maybe even her life."

I swallowed hard. "So what now?"

He looked at me really looked at me. "Now we find out who wanted her erased. And why they're still trying to erase you."

He stepped closer. Close enough that I could smell cedarwood and adrenaline.

"You still don't trust me," he said softly.

"Nope," I said.

"Smart."

And then, before I could say anything else, the lights flickered-and a crash echoed from deeper in the archives.

Alec's expression sharpened. "We're not alone.