Chapter 2 Building the perfect lie

LEXI'S POV

The coffee shop on Fifth Street buzzed with the morning rush, but I barely noticed the chaos around me. My laptop screen glowed with seventeen different browser tabs, each one a piece of the puzzle I was trying to solve. Gabriel Verity's face stared back at me from a Forbes magazine cover-those steel-gray eyes seeming to look right through the camera, right through me.

"The Foster Kid Who Built an Empire" read the headline. I'd already memorized every word of the article, but I read it again anyway, searching for details that might help me understand the man I was about to deceive.

"More coffee?" The barista appeared at my elbow, pot in hand.

"Please." I didn't look up from the screen. I'd been here since six AM, and it was now approaching nine. My usual table in the corner had become command central for what I was already thinking of as Operation Verity.

Dr. Richard Sterling had agreed to meet me at ten, and I needed every piece of information I could gather before then. Creating a false identity wasn't just about fake credentials-it was about becoming someone else entirely, someone who could walk into Gabriel Verity's world and belong there.

My phone buzzed with a text from Emma: Haven't seen you at morning yoga in three days. Everything okay?

I typed back quickly: Big project. Rain check on this week?

You're becoming a hermit. At least tell me it's a good story.

It could be life-changing, I replied, which was true in ways she couldn't imagine.

I returned to my research, scrolling through social media posts and news articles, building a psychological profile of Gabriel Verity. The man was an enigma wrapped in Armani suits and board meetings. In interviews, he was articulate but guarded, revealing just enough personality to seem human while maintaining an almost military discipline about his privacy.

No dating scandals. No wild nights caught by paparazzi. No social media presence at all. His charitable donations were a matter of public record-substantial contributions to foster care organizations, education programs, and local business development initiatives. Either he was genuinely altruistic, or he had the best PR team in the country.

I opened a new document and began typing:

Gabriel Verity - Personal Profile

Age: 35 Background: Foster care from age 7, aged out at 18 Education: Night school business degree Personality traits (observed from interviews): - Extremely private - Articulate but guarded - Values loyalty (references to long-term employees) - Demanding but fair (according to employee reviews) - Workaholic tendencies

Potential vulnerabilities: - Foster care trauma could make him sensitive to abandonment - No close personal relationships mentioned in any interviews - Perfectionist tendencies might make him micromanage

Red flags: - Too perfect public image - Recent departure of long-term assistant Elena Vasquez - Anonymous tip suggests awareness of harmful activities

I paused, staring at that last line. Was I about to walk into the den of a man who knowingly hurt people? Or was I chasing shadows and conspiracy theories born from my own grief?

My father's voice echoed in my memory: "The truth isn't always comfortable, Lexi, but it's always necessary."

I pulled up the Verity Holdings website and navigated to their leadership page. Gabriel Verity's official biography was sparse-born in Millbrook City, graduated from University of Washington business program, founded first company at twenty-five. Nothing about the foster care system, nothing about the struggles that Forbes had detailed.

But it was the leadership team page that made my pulse quicken. Marcus Webb, CFO-blonde, blue-eyed, with the kind of polished smile that belonged on a toothpaste commercial. Diana Thornfield, VP of Operations-silver-haired, sharp-featured, photographed in what was probably a thousand-dollar suit. James Morrison, Head of Security-older, stockier, with eyes that seemed to catalog everything they saw.

These were the people I'd need to fool. These were the people who might know whatever secrets Gabriel Verity was hiding.

I clicked on the company's financial reports, scanning quarterly earnings and SEC filings. Verity Holdings was privately held, which meant less transparency than public companies, but what information was available painted a picture of steady growth and conservative financial management. Nothing obviously suspicious, but then again, the best criminals were also the smartest.

My phone alarm chimed-time to meet Dr. Sterling. I packed my laptop and notes, left a generous tip for the patient barista, and walked the six blocks to the University of Washington extension campus where Richard Sterling maintained an office despite his retirement.

The building smelled like old books and chalk dust, reminders of my own college days when journalism had seemed like a calling rather than a weapon. Dr. Sterling's office was on the third floor, door slightly ajar as always.

"Lexi?" His familiar voice called out before I could knock. "Come in, dear."

Dr. Richard Sterling looked exactly like central casting would order for "wise professor"-white hair, wire-rimmed glasses, cardigan with elbow patches. He'd been my father's roommate at UW thirty years ago, and one of the few people who'd attended Dad's funeral without trying to offer empty platitudes about "God's plan."

"Richard." I hugged him carefully, mindful of his seventy-year-old bones. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"Your father was my dearest friend," he said simply. "I'd do anything for his daughter. Now, your email mentioned needing help with a 'complex research project.' That's delightfully vague."

I settled into the worn leather chair across from his desk, surrounded by towers of books and academic papers. How did I explain this without sounding completely insane?

"I need to become someone else," I said finally. "Temporarily. For a story."

His bushy eyebrows rose. "Undercover work? That's dangerous territory for a journalist, Lexi."

"I know. But this story... Richard, I think Gabriel Verity might be involved in something that could destroy lives. I received a tip, and if it's true, this could be bigger than anything I've ever worked on."

"Gabriel Verity." He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. "I've met him, actually. Several years ago at a university fundraiser. Brilliant man, though there was something... careful about him. Like he was constantly calculating."

"What did you think of him?"

"Impressive. Intimidating. The kind of man who's used to being the smartest person in any room." Dr. Sterling studied my face. "What exactly are you planning, Lexi?"

I took a deep breath. "I want to apply to be his executive assistant. His long-term assistant just quit under mysterious circumstances, and they're hiring immediately. If I could get inside Verity Holdings, I'd have access to information no external investigation could uncover."

The silence stretched for nearly a minute. Finally, Dr. Sterling removed his glasses and cleaned them methodically-a gesture I remembered from childhood visits when he was considering something serious.

"You realize this could destroy your career if you're caught," he said quietly. "Impersonating someone else, lying on job applications-that's not just unethical, it's potentially illegal."

"I know the risks."

"Do you? Because I don't think you understand what you're asking. Creating a false identity that could fool a billionaire CEO and his security team isn't like using a fake name at a coffee shop. This would require documentation, references, a complete backstory that could withstand serious scrutiny."

My heart sank. "You're saying it's impossible?"

"I'm saying it's dangerous." He put his glasses back on and leaned forward. "But your father was my best friend, and he raised you to believe in justice. If you're determined to do this, I'd rather help you do it safely than watch you attempt it alone."

Relief flooded through me. "You'll help?"

"I'll help you create Alexandra Sterling," he said with a slight smile. "Consider it my final academic project. But Lexi, you need to understand-once you step into Gabriel Verity's world under false pretenses, there's no going back. If this goes wrong, it won't just end your career. It could end your freedom."

For the next two hours, we mapped out Alexandra Sterling's fictional life. Dr. Sterling would be her uncle and previous employer at his "consulting firm"-a convenient explanation for why she'd worked for someone with the same last name. We crafted a background that was impressive but not too impressive, experienced but not threatening.

Alexandra Sterling had grown up in Seattle, graduated from UW with a communications degree, and spent five years supporting high-level executives. She was professional, discreet, and ambitious enough to want to work for Gabriel Verity but not ambitious enough to seem like a corporate spy.

"The key," Dr. Sterling explained as he drafted fake letters of recommendation on his official letterhead, "is consistency. Every detail of Alexandra's life must connect to every other detail. Her education explains her communication skills. Her work history explains her experience. Her personality explains why she'd want this particular job."

"What about references? They'll want to call and verify employment."

"I'll handle that. I still have connections in the academic world, and several former colleagues owe me favors." He handed me a manila folder thick with documents. "University transcripts, employment records, even a fabricated credit report showing Alexandra Sterling as a responsible adult with good financial habits."

I stared at the folder, amazed at how quickly my double life had taken shape. "This is incredible. How did you-"

"Your father wasn't the only one who knew how to investigate, dear. I may teach corporate strategy, but I understand how these systems work." His expression grew serious. "Lexi, promise me something."

"Anything."

"Promise me you'll be careful. Gabriel Verity didn't build an empire by being naive. If he suspects you're not who you claim to be, he won't just fire you. He'll destroy you."

I thought about my father's failed business, about the anonymous email warning of bodies buried under golden reputations, about two years of grief and helplessness that had led me to this moment.

"I promise I'll be careful," I said. "But I won't promise to give up."

Dr. Sterling nodded, as if that was the answer he'd expected. "Then let's make sure Alexandra Sterling is ready to meet her new boss."

GABE'S POV

The conference room on the fortieth floor had been set up for interviews, but I found myself pacing rather than sitting. Five candidates, each supposedly qualified to handle the most demanding administrative position in the building. Elena's empty desk outside my office was a constant reminder of what I'd lost when she'd walked away.

Diana Thornfield knocked and entered without waiting, another of her presumptuous habits that grated on my nerves.

"The first candidate is here," she announced, consulting her tablet. "Alexandra Sterling. Would you like me to sit in on the interview?"

"That won't be necessary." I'd handle this personally, the way I handled everything important.

"Are you sure? As VP of Operations, I interact frequently with your assistant. I could provide valuable input on-"

"Diana." My tone stopped her mid-sentence. "I'm sure."

Her smile was perfectly professional and completely cold. "Of course. I'll send her up."

After Diana left, I reviewed Alexandra Sterling's file one final time. Twenty-eight years old, bachelor's degree from University of Washington, five years supporting senior executives. Her references were impeccable-Dr. Richard Sterling of Sterling Consulting had written a glowing recommendation describing her as "exceptionally organized, discreet, and capable of handling the most sensitive matters with professionalism."

Something about the application still intrigued me, though I couldn't identify what. Maybe it was the lack of obvious ambition. Most executive assistant candidates made it clear they saw the position as a stepping stone to bigger things. Alexandra Sterling's cover letter had been refreshingly direct about wanting the job itself, not what it might lead to.

My intercom buzzed. "Mr. Verity? Ms. Sterling is here."

"Send her in."

The door opened, and I looked up to see a young woman with auburn hair pulled back in a professional chignon and the kind of green eyes that seemed to catalog everything they saw. She wore a navy suit that was well-tailored but not expensive, and she moved with the confident stride of someone who belonged in corporate environments.

"Ms. Sterling." I stood and extended my hand. "Thank you for coming in."

Her handshake was firm without trying to prove anything. "Mr. Verity. Thank you for considering my application."

"Please, have a seat." I gestured to the chair across from my desk, studying her as she settled herself. She was prettier than her resume photo had suggested, but there was something else-an intelligence behind those green eyes that made me think she was studying me as carefully as I was studying her.

"Tell me about your experience with Dr. Sterling," I began.

"Uncle Richard is brilliant but scattered," she said with a slight smile. "Working for him taught me that supporting a high-level executive is about anticipating needs they don't even know they have yet. He'd get so absorbed in a project that he'd forget to eat, forget meetings, forget that he'd promised to speak at conferences. My job was to keep his professional life organized while giving him the freedom to focus on what he did best."

Uncle Richard. That explained the same last name, and the reference made more sense coming from family. "What made you interested in leaving his firm?"

"Uncle Richard is semi-retired now, mostly consulting on projects that interest him rather than running a full business. I'm looking for a more challenging position where I can grow professionally." She met my eyes directly. "Verity Holdings has a reputation for excellence that I'd like to be part of."

Standard answer, but she delivered it without the rehearsed quality that made most candidates sound like they were reading from a script. "This position requires handling highly confidential information. How do you feel about signing comprehensive non-disclosure agreements?"

"I consider discretion to be fundamental to the role," she said without hesitation. "In five years working for Uncle Richard, I never discussed his business with anyone who wasn't directly involved. I understand that executive assistants are often privy to information that could damage companies or individuals if mishandled."

"The hours can be demanding. Fourteen-hour days aren't uncommon, and you'd need to be available for emergencies even when you're not officially working."

"I don't have family obligations that would interfere with the job requirements," she said. "And I believe that excellence requires dedication."

I leaned back in my chair, reassessing. She was giving me all the right answers, but they felt genuine rather than calculated. Most candidates tried to oversell themselves or ask about advancement opportunities. Alexandra Sterling seemed more interested in understanding the job than promoting herself.

"What do you know about Verity Holdings?" I asked.

"You've built a remarkable company from nothing," she said. "Fifteen thousand employees, operations in twelve countries, and a reputation for treating both workers and communities better than your competitors. The business press calls you a genius, but I think what's more impressive is that you've maintained your values while scaling to this size."

Interesting. Most candidates focused on profits and growth. She'd mentioned values and community impact. "And what do you think those values are?"

She was quiet for a moment, considering her answer. "From everything I've read, you believe that businesses have responsibility beyond profits. That success should lift up everyone involved, not just shareholders." She paused. "Though I imagine that philosophy gets tested regularly in your position."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because doing the right thing is often more expensive than doing the profitable thing. And you're accountable to a lot of people with different definitions of success."

I found myself leaning forward, genuinely curious about her perspective. "How would you handle a situation where those definitions conflicted?"

"I'd make sure you had all the information you needed to make an informed decision," she said. "My job would be to give you the space and support to make choices that align with your principles, whatever those might be."

Smart answer. She wasn't presuming to know what my principles were, but she was affirming her role as supportive rather than directive. I glanced at my watch-we'd been talking for thirty minutes, and it had felt like ten.

"Do you have any questions for me?" I asked.

"What happened to your previous assistant? Elena Vasquez had been with you for eight years. That suggests loyalty and job satisfaction, so I'm curious about why she left."

Direct. Almost everyone else had danced around that question or ignored it entirely. "Elena decided she wanted to pursue other opportunities. Her departure was amicable, but it left a significant gap in our operations."

Alexandra Sterling nodded, and I had the distinct impression she was filing that information away for future consideration. "How do you prefer to receive information? Detailed reports, executive summaries, or do you prefer verbal briefings?"

"Depends on the situation, but I generally prefer efficiency over comprehensiveness. I can ask for details if I need them."

"And communication style? Some executives prefer formal interactions, others are more casual with their support staff."

"Professional but not rigid," I said. "I don't need ceremony, but I do need competence."

She smiled, and for a moment she looked younger, less polished. "I think I can manage that."

"When could you start?" The question surprised me-I hadn't intended to make a decision today.

"Immediately, if needed. I've already given notice at my current position."

I stood, and she rose as well, smoothing her skirt with an unconscious gesture that somehow made her seem more real. "I have four other candidates to interview, but I'll be in touch by tomorrow afternoon."

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Verity." She shook my hand again, that same confident grip. "I hope we'll have the opportunity to work together."

After she left, I sat back down and stared at her file. Alexandra Sterling was qualified, professional, and intelligent. She'd answered every question thoughtfully without seeming rehearsed. She'd asked good questions without being presumptuous.

So why did I have the feeling there was more to her than met the eye?

I picked up my phone and dialed Marcus. "Can you come up here? I want to run something by you."

While I waited, I found myself thinking about those green eyes, the way she'd studied me as if she were trying to solve a puzzle. Most people were intimidated by their first meeting with me-my reputation preceded me, and I'd learned to use that to my advantage. But Alexandra Sterling had seemed more curious than nervous.

Marcus knocked and entered. "How did the first interview go?"

"Interesting," I said, handing him her file. "What do you think?"

He scanned the documents quickly. "Looks solid. Good education, relevant experience, excellent references." He looked up. "You sound skeptical."

"Not skeptical exactly. Just... careful."

"About what?"

I couldn't articulate it, the sense that Alexandra Sterling was more than she appeared. Maybe it was just paranoia, the constant vigilance that came with having built something worth stealing. But in a business where information was power, hiring someone with access to everything meant trusting them with everything.

"I want you to have James run a background check on her," I said finally. "Nothing invasive, just verification of employment history and education."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "That's unusual for you. You normally trust your instincts about people."

"My instincts tell me she's qualified and intelligent. But they also tell me there's something she's not saying."

"Could be nerves. First interview with Gabriel Verity would make anyone hold back."

Maybe. Or maybe I was overthinking a straightforward hiring decision. But Elena's sudden departure had taught me that even people I trusted completely could surprise me.

"Run the background check anyway," I said. "If everything confirms what's in her application, we'll move forward."

As Marcus left with Alexandra Sterling's file, I returned to the window that had become my refuge during difficult decisions. Somewhere in the city below, she was probably having lunch or running errands, unaware that her future was being dissected by my security team.

I wanted to hire her. That realization surprised me-I'd gone into the interview expecting to be disappointed, the way I'd been disappointed by Elena's replacements for the past month. But Alexandra Sterling had engaged with me as an equal while still respecting the professional hierarchy.

She was smart enough to handle the complexity of my schedule and discreet enough to handle confidential information. She seemed genuinely interested in the work rather than what it might lead to. And she'd asked about Elena directly, which suggested she wasn't afraid to address difficult topics.

But something about her felt too convenient, too perfect for what I needed. And in my experience, things that seemed too good to be true usually were.

Tomorrow, I'd have James's background report and could make an informed decision. Either Alexandra Sterling was exactly who she appeared to be, or my instincts were warning me about a threat I couldn't yet identify.

Either way, I'd know soon enough.