Catherine Marsh Part 3

Chapter 80: Catherine Marsh Part 3 At 9:45 on Tuesday morning, Catherine Marsh stood across Park Avenue from the building that had once known Isabella Thorne by sight. Leah kept her eyes on the revolving doors and counted the ways the plan could fail before she touched them: the old security guard might remember a dead heiress, the ID scanner might reject Viktor's license, the visitor log might flag an invented address, or some assistant from the fortieth floor might glance down from an elevator and see a ghost in a gray coat. The building rose above her in glass, steel, and old money, indifferent to whether it held a corporation or a mausoleum. Her interview began in fifteen minutes. If she crossed the street, Catherine Marsh became real inside Martha Thorne's machinery. If she walked away, March 2027 kept moving toward her like a locked door. She crossed on the light. The lobby was exactly as Isabella remembered and nothing like Leah needed it to be. Marble floor. Brass fixtures. Reception desk. Elevator banks polished enough to reflect a face from the wrong angle. People in suits moved through the morning with the private confidence of employees who believed their badges made them harmless. Leah knew the main entrance, the service door on 56th, the executive garage below, and the cameras tucked into corners most visitors never checked. Isabella had once ridden these elevators without thinking about them. Catherine counted them as evidence. "Good morning," she told the security desk. "I'm here for a ten o'clock interview with HR. Catherine Marsh." The guard looked up. Leah saw no recognition in his eyes, only boredom trained into procedure. "ID, please." She handed him Viktor's driver's license. He scanned it. The tablet took one second, then two. Leah kept her hands loose at her sides and made Catherine's face curious rather than afraid. The third second stretched thin enough to cut. Then the guard handed the license back. "Thirty-fourth floor. Elevator bank C. Check in with reception." "Thank you." She walked to elevator bank C without letting herself hurry. The doors opened on an empty car, and she stepped inside. Thirty-four floors meant less than a minute. It was still enough time for her body to remember another ride, another closed space, another car waiting after a gala. She watched the numbers climb and used each floor as an instruction. Shoulders relaxed. Chin neutral. Breath normal. Catherine Marsh was not returning to the scene of a murder attempt. Catherine Marsh had an interview. The doors opened onto a smaller reception area with the Thorne Group logo etched in glass behind a curved desk. The receptionist's smile was clean and forgettable. "Can I help you?" "Catherine Marsh. Ten o'clock with Karen Feldman." The receptionist checked the screen. "Welcome to Thorne Group, Ms. Marsh. Please have a seat. Karen will be out shortly." No pause. No second look. No widening of the eyes. Leah sat by the window where she could see both Park Avenue below and the hallway reflected in the glass. Somewhere six floors above her, Richard's office still existed. Somewhere in the same network, Martha signed documents that had buried Leah's name under two years of survival. The logo reflected beside Catherine's shoulder and did not break. Karen Feldman arrived first, brisk and professional, carrying a printed resume. David Choi followed two minutes later, mid-forties, precise, charcoal suit, loosened tie, eyes that measured structure before politeness. "Catherine, thank you for coming in," Karen said. "This is David Choi, Senior Director of Corporate Strategy." "Nice to meet you both." David did not waste time on warmth. "Walk me through the Boston firm. Your resume says contract-based strategic analyst. What did that mean in practice?" Leah had built the answer to withstand a man like him. She gave Vanguard Financial Partners an eighteen-month planning mandate, a market-analysis scope, two transaction support projects, and a five-year growth strategy. She described ambiguous data, stakeholder conflict, and the discipline of separating what executives wanted to believe from what the numbers could prove. Isabella could have dominated the room with that answer. Catherine made it useful, modest, and slightly underdecorated. David's follow-ups sharpened. How did she prioritize incomplete data? How did she challenge a senior stakeholder? What would she do if a board wanted a growth narrative that the numbers did not support? Leah answered as Catherine, but the truth under the answers was hers: you survive powerful families by learning the difference between what they say they want and what their systems are built to hide. At the thirty-minute mark, David leaned back. "You've done your homework on Thorne Group. Your knowledge of our recent strategic initiatives is impressive for someone at your career stage." "Thank you. I believe in thorough preparation." "One concern," he said. "Your tenure at both previous firms was relatively short. Two years in Chicago, eighteen months in Boston. What's the pattern?" There it was, the seam Viktor could build but not defend for her. Leah let Catherine accept the concern without flinching. "Chicago was my first post-MBA role. I learned a great deal, but when my direct manager relocated and the team restructured, there was limited upward mobility. Boston was a defined contract with a clear end date. I'm looking now for a permanent role where I can build a long-term career." "And why Thorne Group?" "Because the company is at a real inflection point." She looked at David, not Karen. "Healthcare expansion through Costa Holdings, the Foundation's public-facing role, and generational transition all create strategic questions that can't be answered by simple growth models. I want to work where analysis affects decisions before they harden into legacy." For one dangerous second, the last word belonged to Isabella. Leah softened it with Catherine's small smile. "And I have always been interested in family-owned enterprises. They can be incredibly resilient when the governance is honest." David's pen stopped. Karen wrote something down. Neither of them looked alarmed. "Thank you, Catherine," David said. "We'll be in touch." Leah left the building at 10:52 and did not let herself breathe fully until she had walked east on 56th, south on Lexington, and west on 53rd into a coffee shop she had never used before. She took the back corner, ordered black coffee, and pressed her palms around the paper cup until heat steadied them. She had been inside. The license had passed. The receptionist had welcomed her. David Choi had questioned her thinking and found ambition, not a corpse. She opened the Moleskine. February 18. In-person interview complete. Karen Feldman, HR. David Choi, Senior Director, Corporate Strategy. Duration: 52 minutes. Cover held. Key observation: 34th floor reception sightline catches hallway and window reflection. Interview rooms small, East Side view. Loading dock visible from south-facing coffee area. Service entrance likely delivery/maintenance route. Building badge required beyond reception. Karen said background check takes ten to fourteen business days. Key risk: David values cultural alignment with family enterprise narrative. Catherine's hardware-store background worked. Do not overplay it. Key emotional note: elevator remains dangerous. Practice again before start date. Her phone vibrated before she closed the notebook. Not the burner this time. The anonymous channel. Ethan. Riverside. February 20, 7 PM. Bring every building observation. We need a physical map before the background check starts. Leah read it twice, then looked back toward Park Avenue through the coffee shop window. Martha Thorne was somewhere in Midtown, still signing, still erasing, still protected by structures that assumed no dead girl would ever walk back through security with a legal ID. Catherine Marsh had already done it once.