Chapter 8 - The DeliveryElena cracked the chain lock, her knuckles white. "What do you want?"
Marcus didn't push the door. He kept his hands visible, resting easily at his sides, though his eyes assessed the hallway behind him with razor-sharp intensity.
"Mrs. Carter," Marcus said, his voice deep and measured. "Mr. Kane sends his regards. And a delivery."
He held up the box.
"I don't want anything from Mr. Kane," Elena said quickly, her maternal protective instinct flaring. "We have the back pay. We don't owe him anything else. Please just leave us alone."
"You don't owe him a dime," Marcus agreed calmly. "And Mr. Kane does not give gifts with strings attached. But he noted that Miss Rory left her coloring book behind on the table."
From behind Elena’s legs, a small red hood popped out. "My Crayolas?"
Marcus offered a faint, respectful nod. "Not just your Crayolas, young lady." He gently pushed the box forward.
Elena slowly undid the chain and opened the door wide. She took the box and set it on the kitchen table, cutting the yellow ribbon with a pair of kitchen shears.
Inside wasn't just a coloring book.
Atop a massive, professional-grade art set with every marker, pastel, and watercolor imaginable sat a brand-new, heavy-duty tablet pre-loaded with educational games, and beneath that—a crisp, handwritten note on heavy cardstock.
Elena lifted the note. The handwriting was sharp, elegant, and uncompromising.
Mrs. Carter, Your daughter has exceptional courage and an eye for detail. Chicago is a difficult city for honest people, but courage should never go unrewarded. The bistro is now under new management. Your job is waiting for you tomorrow morning as general manager, with a salary commensurate with your true worth. And Rory—keep counting the stars. But let me handle the night sky. — V.K.
May you like
Elena stared at the paper, the room spinning slightly. General manager. A real salary. Security.
And then, she looked down at Rory, who was already ripping open the art set with pure, unadulterated childhood joy.
