Chapter 3
I tried several possible passwords: birthdays, wedding anniversaries, company founding dates...
None worked.
Finally, I entered my own birthday: 0516.
Click.
The safe opened.
Inside was only one document, wrapped in an elegant folder. With trembling hands, I opened it.
"Bennett & Associates Equity Transfer Agreement"
My eyes quickly scanned the content, then suddenly landed on a line that shocked me into silence:
"...upon Catherine Bennett reaching the age of 25, she shall automatically acquire 65% controlling interest in Bennett & Associates, including but not limited to..."
The rest was obscured by a piece of paper, with only the words "...special clauses..." visible.
I tore away the covering paper with shaking hands, only to find the text beneath had been deliberately blacked out with ink, completely illegible.
"65% controlling interest?" I gasped, my fingers trembling so badly I could barely hold the document.
If this document was real, then in two weeks—on my 25th birthday—I would become the actual controller of Bennett & Associates!
No wonder Father was rushing to complete the cultural center sale next week! Once I gained controlling interest, I could stop the deal!
But what were those blacked-out "special clauses"? Why hide them deliberately?
I clutched the document tightly, emotions swirling within me.
Mother had actually left me this kind of contingency. But this also meant she had foreseen something before her death?
I placed the document back in the safe, fierce determination filling my chest: tomorrow, I would confront David.
Those erased "special clauses" definitely concealed an even bigger secret.
The next morning, Bennett & Associates top floor office.
"David, we need to talk." I pushed through the door, my voice more resolute than ever before.
David didn't look up, continuing to review documents. "If it's about your job transfer, HR will handle it."
"It's about the Brooklyn Cultural Center." I planted my hands on the desk surface, leaning forward to look directly at him. "You can't sell Mom's building! It's her legacy!"
David finally looked up, those eyes cold as glaciers, sending a chill through me. But this time, I didn't back down.
"You're not a shareholder yet, Catherine. I'm the one running this company now."
Rage surged through me as I thought of the equity document I'd seen last night: "But that's Mom's work! She poured everything into that community—"
"Business decisions don't need emotional involvement." David cut me off, his lips curving into a mocking smile. "25 million dollars, cash transaction, completed next week. Any objections?"
My blood was boiling: "Objections? I will stop this deal!"
"With what?" David stood up, looking down at me condescendingly. "With your 0% shareholding?"
Ring ring ring—
The phone on his desk rang. David glanced at the caller ID, his smile deepening.
"Marcus? Perfect timing, Catherine's right here." David hit the speakerphone button. "She just said she wants to stop the cultural center deal."
Hearing Marcus's familiar yet strange mocking voice felt like my heart being torn apart: "Don't think moving out gives you any leverage over us. You're nothing, Catherine. Less than two weeks until you turn 25? Ha, too late to stop anything."
They had known all along!
I clenched my fists, nails digging into my palms: "I will be, after my 25th birthday."
"That's still over ten days away," David said smugly, his eyes glinting with cunning. "The deal closes next week."
Marcus laughed over the phone: "Catherine, stop this futile struggle. You think canceling the engagement was brave? Reality will show you what real powerlessness looks like."
SLAM!
I struck the desk with my palm, feeling sharp pain shoot through my hand as documents scattered across the floor. "I won't let you succeed!"
I turned and stormed out of the office, David and Marcus's laughter following me—that laughter cutting into my back like knives.
As the elevator doors closed, I leaned against the cold metal wall, chest heaving heavily. Anger gradually subsided, replaced by crushing despair.
Could I really fight an entire family alone?
Walking out of the building, Manhattan's cold wind hit my face as I forced myself to think calmly. Two weeks to stop a carefully orchestrated conspiracy—I needed allies.
But who could I trust? Office colleagues? They were already on Vivienne's side. Family friends? Most were from Marcus's social circle.
Passing by Columbia University's entrance, I suddenly stopped.
Looking at the familiar campus, I remembered that old classmate who always spoke out against injustice in the architecture world—Alexander Sterling.
We had been classmates in architecture school, and now he was an investigative journalist for Architectural Review, specializing in exposing corruption scandals in the architecture industry.
More importantly, he had always respected Mom's design philosophy, frequently quoting her architectural principles in his articles.
If anyone would help me protect Mom's legacy, it would be him.
I made the call.
Sitting in Café Luna near Columbia University, I gripped my coffee cup, repeatedly thinking about last night's discovery.
Alexander set down his notebook, blue eyes filled with concern.
"Alex, thank you for agreeing to see me."
"Catherine, you sounded terrible on the phone. What happened?"
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady: "I need your help. They're going to tear down my mother's cultural center."
"What?"
Alexander's coffee cup hit the table hard with a sharp clink. His face instantly turned grave: "Elena Bennett's cultural center? That's a paradigm of modern community architecture! Are they insane?"
I smiled bitterly, thinking of the equity document I'd discovered last night: "No, they're very lucid. Terrifyingly so. David and my father want to sell it to Trump Organization, tear it down and rebuild luxury apartments. And they're rushing—want to complete the transaction next week."
"Damn it!" Alexander slammed his fist on the table. "Professor Elena changed my entire understanding of architecture. Her designs weren't just buildings—they were the soul of communities!"
Seeing the anger in Alexander's eyes, I felt a spark of hope: "I have less than two weeks to stop this deal."
I paused, deciding to reveal more: "Alex, I discovered something last night. I might... I might soon have the power to stop them."
"What do you mean?" Alexander keenly picked up on the deeper meaning in my words.
"I can't say too much, but... what my mom left me wasn't just architectural philosophy." I gripped my coffee cup tighter. "I need evidence, need to expose them. Will you help me?"
"Then we have two weeks." Alexander said firmly, his gaze sharpening. "Catherine, Professor Elena's lectures at Columbia changed my life trajectory. She said an architect's responsibility isn't to build houses, but to build communities' dreams. I won't let them destroy her work."
We locked eyes, and I felt an unspoken bond form between us in that moment.
But I still hadn't told him the most important thing—that equity document, and those deliberately erased "special clauses."
I gripped my coffee cup, looking out at the New York streetscape. Two more weeks until I turned 25. By then, everything would be revealed.
Whatever those "special clauses" were hiding, I was going to find out.
