Chapter 2 - The Morning After the Storm
Dawn broke over Hadley like a bruised eye, smearing cold grays and pale purples across a slate-colored sky.
The heavy mahogany door of the guest suite clicked open quietly just as the first rays of gray light filtered through the blinds. I had spent the remainder of the night sitting upright in an armchair by the window, clutching my battered suitcase like a shield, listening to every distant groan of the high-rise structure.
When I stepped out into the expansive, minimalist hallway, the penthouse was deathly quiet.
The kitchen—a gleaming expanse of white marble and stainless steel—was pristine. Too pristine. It looked like a showroom display rather than a place where people lived. On the marble island sat a silver tray with a pot of black coffee and a fresh ceramic mug, alongside a folded white envelope with my name written in sharp, heavy black ink: Delia.
My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up the envelope and tore it open. Inside was a cashier’s check made out to cash, bearing an astronomical sum—ten times what I made in a month at the luxury hotel—alongside a short, handwritten note:
“The car is waiting downstairs to take you wherever you need to go. Thank you for staying until morning. Don’t come back. — L.”
I stared at the check, a cold knot tightening in my stomach.
Ten thousand dollars.
With that kind of money, I could pay three months of back rent, stock the refrigerator for Naomi, pay off the medical clinic debt, and buy a used car to get us out of Hadley entirely. It was a clean break. It was the ticket out of the gutter I had been praying for since losing my job.
So why did my chest feel so heavy?
“Leaving so soon?”
I jumped, spinning around to find Bruno Hale standing in the kitchen doorway. The burly driver looked as imposing in the daylight as he had in the dark alley, his broad shoulders filling the entrance, his dark eyes studying me with a guarded, calculating expression.
“He left a note,” I said, holding up the paper.
Bruno crossed his arms over his chest. “The boss doesn’t make it a habit of keeping civilian witnesses around for long, Ms. Hart. Especially not ones who see him vulnerable.”
“I’m not a witness to anything except a gunshot wound and a very messy kitchen,” I retorted, my defensive instincts flaring up. I set the note down on the counter. “Where is he?”
“Mr. Frost is in his private study on the lower level, meeting with Garrett and the department heads,” Bruno replied, his tone flat. “My instructions are to drive you to any destination of your choosing within city limits. Shall I bring the car around?”
Before I could answer, a sudden, sharp crash echoed from the hallway leading toward the master wing.
It wasn't the sound of thunder. It was the unmistakable sound of breaking glass and a muffled, angry shout.
Bruno’s expression hardened instantly. He didn't hesitate; he sidestepped me with surprising speed, his hand drifting toward his jacket as he moved down the corridor.
I didn't think. I dropped the envelope and followed right behind him.
When we reached the threshold of Lincoln’s private study, the heavy oak door was wide open. Inside, papers were scattered everywhere across the Persian rug. Lincoln stood in the center of the room, breathing heavily, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. Across from him stood Garrett Mallory, looking entirely unruffled, though a shard of broken crystal from a shattered glass tumbler lay at his polished oxfords.
“I will not sign off on the harbor acquisition, Garrett,” Lincoln growled, his voice vibrating with suppressed fury. “The numbers don’t add up. Someone is bleeding capital from the logistics division, and I want an audit of every ledger since January.”
Garrett sighed, adjusting his cuffs with practiced grace. “Lincoln, you’re letting the lack of sleep cloud your judgment again. The harbor deal is entirely legitimate. If we delay the signing another twenty-four hours, we lose the municipal contract. Do you want to tank the company just because you thought your coffee tasted funny this morning?”
“It wasn't just the coffee,” Lincoln said, his pale gray eyes flashing dangerously.
That was when Garrett looked past him and saw me standing in the doorway, with Bruno hovering right behind my shoulder.
A slow, unpleasant smile spread across Garrett’s face.
May you like
“Ah,” Garrett murmured, his eyes locking onto mine with a cold, predatory gleam. “I see the overnight guest is still here. Tell me, Ms. Hart... did the boss offer you a permanent housekeeping position, or are you just here to watch the empire fall apart?”
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