Chapter 19: The Mysterious Mr. Z
[Sarah]
I woke to sunlight streaming through the penthouse windows, my body aching from another restless night. The twins had been particularly active, making sleep elusive. When I checked my phone, the time made me bolt upright – 10:30 AM.
Wrapped in my silk nightgown and matching robe, I hurried through my morning routine. Even in my rush, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror – expensive sleepwear that
somehow made me feel more exposed than if I’d been in regular clothes. It wasn’t until I emerged from my suite that I realized my massive mistake.
Theodore sat at the head of the dining table, surrounded by men in expensive suits. The Sunday morning business meeting I’d completely forgotten about. His dark eyes found mine immediately, taking in my casual appearance with a flash of something unreadable. Heat rushed to my face as I became acutely aware of my bare legs and the thin silk clinging to my curves. I fought the urge to wrap my arms around myself, knowing it would
only draw more attention.
Mrs. Thompson materialized at my elbow like a guardian angel. “This way, Miss Sarah. I’ve set up breakfast in the private dining room.”
As she guided me past the meeting, fragments of conversation caught my attention.
“Sullivan MedTech’s autonomous vehicle AI system looks promising, but without proper funding…”
“Too risky. The market’s already skeptical about their stability…”
Mortification burned through me as I quickened my pace, feeling the weight of every stare on my inappropriate attire. In the private dining room, Mrs. Thompson served breakfast
without comment about my obvious distress.
I managed a few bites before escaping to the nearest coffee shop with my laptop. The familiar academic environment helped settle my nerves as I worked on my thesis, trying to ignore the morning’s humiliation.
At 4 PM, an email notification broke my concentration:
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Chapter 19: The Mysterious Mr. Z
From: [email protected]
Subject: Sullivan MedTech Investment Opportunity
Dear Ms. Sullivan,
I’ve been following Sullivan MedTech’s developments with great interest, particularly your Al integration projects. I represent a private investment group interested in discussing potential funding opportunities.
Regards,
Mr. Z
My first instinct was to dismiss it as spam, but something about the precise technical knowledge in the following paragraphs gave me pause. I sent a carefully worded reply requesting verification of funds.
The response came within minutes – documentation showing $1.2 billion in liquid assets, along with proof of previous tech investments. My hands shook as I verified the details.
Another email arrived: “As a show of good faith…” followed by a request for secure
payment details.
I hesitated, years of warnings about online scams running through my mind. But after triple–checking the security protocols, I sent the information.
My phone buzzed five minutes later – notification of a $5 million wire transfer to Sullivan
MedTech’s account.
“Oh my god.” I must have said it aloud because several students looked up from their
laptops.
My fingers flew across the keyboard as I messaged our Vice President of Operations: “Need you. Coffee shop. NOW.”
He arrived twenty minutes later, his usual composed demeanor slightly ruffled. “Sarah, what’s the emergency? Is this about the board meeting?”
“Look at this.” I pulled him into a corner booth, careful to keep my loose sweater arranged
just so.
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Chapter 19: The Mysterious Mr Z
His eyes widened as he scrolled through the email exchange. “This is… legitimate. The technical questions about our Al system whoever this is knows their stuff.”
“Could you verify the transfer?”
“Already did.” He showed me his phone screen. “It’s real, Sarah. Five million dollars, just
like that.”
“He wants to meet on Friday,” I bit my lip. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course.” David’s expression turned serious. “But we should run full background checks
first.
The week crawled by. Every verification came back clean, though frustratingly vague. Mr. Z’s digital footprint was minimal but impeccable.
Friday morning, Theodore intercepted me as I left for class. “Family dinner tonight. Mother’s requesting your presence.”
“I can’t. The lie felt thick on my tongue. “I have commitments.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “What kind of commitments?”
“Academic ones.” I met his gaze steadily, ignoring the twins‘ flutter of protest at my
elevated heart rate.
“Sarah.” His voice carried a warning. “Think very carefully about continuing down this path of dishonesty.”
I almost confessed then – about Mr. Z, about my desperate attempt to save my family’s company. But something in his expression made me hesitate.
‘I’m sorry,” I said instead. “Please give my apologies to your mother.”
I arrived at the exclusive Manhattan club thirty minutes before the appointed time, my
stomach twisted into anxious knots. It wasn’t even six o’clock yet–twenty minutes ahead of the agreed 6:00 PM meeting–but I needed the extra moments to compose myself. The club’s sleek exterior gleamed under the waning sunlight, its art deco façade hinting at old money and hidden power. Inside, the lobby smelled faintly of sandalwood and polished brass, as if quietly reminding me that I was trespassing into a rarified world.
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Chapter 19: The Mysterious Mr. Z
A young man in an impeccably tailored suit led me down a hushed corridor lined with portraits of distinguished patrons. The plush carpeting muffled my footsteps. He stopped before a door discreetly labeled “Private Suite 606,” and gave a practiced nod as if to say, He’s waiting. I hesitated, fishing my phone from my purse. David’s text flashed on my screen: “Stuck in traffic. 20 minutes late. Sorry!”
I inhaled, steeling myself, then turned the ornate brass handle.
A figure emerged from the shadowed corner near the window, and for an instant, my heart. seized. I recognized the broad shoulders, the perfectly tailored suit, the presence that seemed to dominate a room without speaking. And then, the unmistakable silhouette of a wheelchair rolled slightly into the light. My pulse went wild, confusion and anger
colliding in my chest.
Theodore Pierce.
I froze. Theodore’s dark gaze fixed on me, the air crackling with the tension we’d never quite managed to extinguish since his awakening. My mind spun: Theodore was Mr. Z? He
was the man behind the cryptic emails, the sudden influx of millions into my account, the
promises of salvation for Sullivan MedTech?
“You’re early, Sarah,” he said quietly, voice as controlled and cool as ever. He wore a
charcoal suit, his tie a muted navy. He looked every bit the formidable CEO I knew him to
be–one who had recovered enough strength to attend high–stakes meetings and
orchestrate elaborate deceptions.
My throat tightened. “It was you all along.”
Chapter Comments
Visitor
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So why the hoax? He knew she would never come to him directly, do he went indirectly to get
herm
Visitor
how terribly Corny of course it’s him. and I feel like he should of just did it knowing in front of her and not been a coward. make her know he wants to help
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