A secretary is told to use the freight elevator instead of the main one, a small humiliation that becomes the spark for a much bigger plan. When the company's treatment of its people crosses a line, the overlooked employee sets out to take control of the building and turn the tables on everyone who dismissed them.
On my first day back running N-City's most powerful mafia empire, I pressed the button for the private elevator. A woman stepped in front of me. Are you blind?
It's private elevator. Maid members and executives only. Cleaning crew, use the freight elevator. Left turn.
I glanced at her. I'm not a maintenance. She didn't move an inch. Then you're an errand girl?
Errand girls take the freight elevator too. House rules. Follow them or walk. I looked her over.
A bulky man with a thick gold chain stepped forward. Watch your mouth. She's the boss's favorite secretary. I called him on the spot and demanded an answer.
Julian laughed near the line. You mean that girl, Clara? She's just stubborn. Let it go. Take the freight elevator. It won't kill you.
Don't embarrass her. Then he hung up. Clara smirked. Save the bluff. Move. This elevator isn't for just anyone.
I almost laughed. I shoved her aside, stepped into the lift, and pressed the 68th floor. If the old order had rotted this far, I would set it right today.
day. Are you deaf? You can't use this elevator. The steel doors slid shut inches from her hands. The lift stopped at 68. I turned toward family registry directly. Before I reached the door, someone yanked me backward. You really came here. This is the crown floor. People like you belong here. Clara had chased me up, breathing hard. No one gets through that door without my
say-so. Leave now. I laughed coldly. Funny. I don't remember our house rules saying family