The Fallen Billionaire and the Quiet Secretary Who Reclaimed His Empire
“I have been better,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together to restore circulation.
I found a dusty metal flashlight on a nearby shelf and switched it on.
The yellow beam cut through the darkness, illuminating a cluttered workbench and several covered pallets.
I walked over to a gray metal filing cabinet in the far corner of the space.
Behind it, set directly into the concrete floor, was a small, heavy steel safe.
I knelt down, my wet knees pressing against the cold, damp concrete.
My fingers were numb, but I managed to spin the dial to the combination my father had made me memorize.
The heavy safe door swung open with a low creak.
Inside sat a rugged, military-grade external hard drive wrapped in a static-free sleeve.
“What is that?” Alexander asked, walking over to stand behind me.
“My father’s legacy,” I said, lifting the heavy drive out of the safe. “And the proof you need.”
I carried the drive to the workbench and plugged it into an old, ruggedized laptop I kept stored in a sealed plastic bin.