Chapter 16
A week later, after returning to New York, I instructed my driver to stop outside the 42nd Street skyscraper at midnight.
I sat in the back of my Maybach, looking through the heavy glass windows into the illuminated lobby.
Inside, a man in a navy blue jumpsuit was pushing a heavy mop bucket across the polished floor.
His hair was graying, his shoulders were slouched, and his hands were calloused from hard labor.
It was Julian.
He was wiping down the glass doors that carried the logo of Sterling Investment Group.
He looked up for a brief second, his eyes catching the sleek black Maybach parked across the street.
He recognized the vehicle instantly, dropping his mop handle as tears welled in his eyes.
He didn't run over, nor did he wave; he simply stood there in his janitor’s uniform, bowing his head in total defeat.
May you like
I rolled up the black privacy curtain, turning to my driver.
“Take me home, please.”
