Chapter 2 - The Midnight SummonsThe rest of the dinner rush was a waking nightmare.
Every time a tray clattered against the counter, I flinched, expecting two of Dante’s enforcers to drag me out by my hair. My manager spent the entire evening glaring at me with venomous hatred, his throat sliced by an imaginary blade every time our eyes met. He knew my days—hell, my hours—were numbered.
At 11:00 PM, the restaurant doors locked. The last customer cleared out, the neon open sign flickered off, and the staff vanished through the back exit like ghosts, desperate to put as much distance between themselves and the management as possible. Nobody dared say goodbye to me. To them, I was already a ghost.
I fed Ellie the last of her formula in the quiet breakroom, kissed her forehead, and begged my neighbor—who finally answered her phone—to let me drop her off first thing tomorrow, promising the world. Then, with leaden feet, I walked down the dim, subterranean hallway once more.
The heavy oak door to the private office was unlocked.
I pushed it open. The room was bathed in the amber glow of a single desk lamp. Dante Vance sat behind a massive slab of black obsidian glass, swirling amber liquid in a heavy crystal tumbler.
“Close the door,” he commanded without looking up.
I did. The heavy click of the latch locking shut echoed like a prison cell door.
“Sit,” he said, gesturing to the leather chair opposite him.
I sat, gripping my knees so tightly my knuckles turned white. “Mr. Vance. I know I broke the rules. I’ll leave right now. You can keep my last paycheck. I won't ever come back within ten miles of this place. Just... please don't ruin my life.”
Dante took a slow sip of his drink. He set the glass down with a soft clink.
“Your life is already ruined, Lena,” he said softly, his voice cutting straight through my defenses. “Seven months since your husband’s ‘accidental’ car crash. Eviction notice taped to your apartment door three days ago. Bank account balance sitting at four dollars and twelve cents. And a babysitter who quits the moment she catches a sniffle.”
My breath caught in my throat. My vision blurred with hot, humiliated tears. “How... how do you know that?”
“I own this city, Lena. Nothing happens in the financial district—or the residential slums—without my knowledge,” he replied, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the desk. His dark eyes pierced into mine. “Including the fact that your husband’s death wasn't an accident. It was a hit ordered by the municipal union because he refused to sign off on illegal toxic dumping at the construction site.”
The room spun. The air vanished from my lungs. I grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from falling out of the chair. “What... what did you say?”
“You heard me,” Dante said coldly. “You think you’re drowning because of bad luck. You’re drowning because corrupt men are holding you under. And now, you’re desperate enough to smuggle an infant into a mafia boss’s restaurant.”
May you like
He stood up, walking slowly around the desk until he was standing right beside my chair. The scent of expensive cologne, cedar, and danger washed over me.
“So here is your choice, Lena,” Dante murmured, leaning down so his lips were near my ear. “You walk out that door right now, penniless, homeless, and hunted by the men who killed your husband. Or... you take a job offer you cannot refuse.”
