Page 12 of Old Money

Sawyer says she’s staying as long as possible to “get a few extra shifts in” at the mini-mart before she flies home to her mom. I don’t know why I feel the need to be closer to her, but I do. She hasn’t asked me to be around. We haven’t talked since last night when I heard the steady humming of her snores as she finally drifted off.

I click the tip of my pen up and down as Rachel talks, and she finally catches on.

“Julian?” she asks from the front of the board room.

“Hmm?” I say.

“Did you have a chance to look at the revenue reports?” she asks. I clear my throat and lean forward.

Okay, Julian. Time to get back into boss mode.

“I did, yes,” I say. “I’m pleased with where things are. Projections have us up by 16% since this time last year.”

She nods.

“Let’s put some of that excess back into personnel. Figure out their bonuses, but let’s also do an extra percentage increase in Q1.”

She nods and smiles.

“You got it,” she says, nodding to another woman who just started with Rachel a few months ago. Rachel is my right-hand woman. She’s smart, dedicated, and loyal to a fault. She’s been with the company almost as long as I have. In my opinion, she has one of the most important roles in the entirety of Everett Enterprises. She’s the head of Human Resources. One of the biggest changes I’ve been trying to make since my father named me head of all the East Coast subsidiaries was to invest in the people.

I don’t want to be one of those billionaires who walks around on streets of gold while the people who make us the money work three jobs to keep a roof over their heads.

People like Emily.

One of my biggest initiatives has been implementing a salary minimum. That no employee that works for us makes less than seventy-five thousand, regardless of what their job title is. While my father has approved it for a few of our smaller subsidiaries, it hasn’t made its way across the board. My dad loves money. He loves his bottom line. He’s old school. But I’m not giving up.

We finish up our meeting, I shake hands with my dad’s board buddies, and then I’m getting in the car headed back to the jet.

By the time we land back in New York, it’s already dark. I look at my watch. About an hour until the vigil. I had a car going to pick her up from the hotel to bring her back to campus. I pull out my phone.

You on the way?I send.

Yes. Thank you again for the ride.

Just landed back in NY. I know tonight will be tough. I’ll be thinking about you.

Dots, then no dots, then dots.

Thank you, Julian.

I putmy phone back in my pocket as Russ is pulling out of the airfield.

“Russ,” I say, “let’s head to Colby’s. I want a sub.” He looks at me through the mirror but just nods. I know what he’s thinking. Why are we driving forty minutes outside the city to get a sub when I live in the middle of Manhattan and could get a sub on any corner? But luckily, Russ doesn’t ask questions, and he has trained Tyler not to either.

But the answer is that Colby’s is a sandwich place out in Connecticut—about fifteen minutes from the Carrington campus.

I check some emails, text my dad to let him know how the meetings went, and check in with my brothers. All is well with Everett Enterprises, so I’m clocking out for the night. But it doesn’t stop me from scrolling through my texts every five minutes to see if anyone—any college student, in particular—has checked in.

I get my sandwich and eat it in the car while I peruse on my phone. The vigil should be over by now. I feel my stomach turn. She’ll be going back to her dorm room soon. I wait a few more minutes, and then I let out a sigh.

Just as I’m about to tell Russ to start heading back to the city, my phone buzzes on the leather seat next to me. I reach for it frantically.

“Sawyer?” I answer.

“I can’t do it,” she sobs. “I…I tried to go in, but I can’t do it. This is the last place she was alive. I don’t… I can’t…”

“Where are you?” I ask.

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