Chapter 3 - Blood Money and EmeraldsThe emerald dress fit like a second skin, though it smelled faintly of mothballs and dust—relegated to the back of a forgotten closet until Sterling Kane decided to play dress-up with his captive audience.
When Willa descended the grand staircase that evening, the crystal chandelier overhead cast a harsh, glittering light across the marble foyer.
Sterling Kane sat at the head of the long mahogany dining table, swirling a glass of amber scotch. Two armed bodyguards stood like statues by the mahogany double doors.
"Ah, the bride," Sterling smiled, his teeth gleaming white in the dim light. He gestured to the empty seat directly to his right. "Sit, Willa. Let us celebrate family."
Willa walked down the remaining steps, keeping her posture rigid. She took her seat, looking at the lavish spread of roasted duck and silver-plated side dishes—food fit for royalty, served inside a gilded cage.
"You look lovely," Sterling purred, cutting a slice of meat. "Though I must admit, seeing a homeless girl from the Lakeside Grill sitting at Everett's table is quite the spectacle. Chicago society is still buzzing. Some think I'm eccentric. Others think I'm a saint for giving you a roof over your head."
"And what do you think you are, Sterling?" Willa asked calmly, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Sterling chuckled, setting his knife down with a soft clink. "I am a realist, Willa. Everett built this empire on fear and iron. But iron rusts, and empires crumble when the emperor falls off his throne. My cousin was brilliant, but he was reckless. He trusted the wrong people."
"Like Dr. Whitfield?" Willa asked, watching Sterling's eyes carefully.
The smile faltered for a fraction of a second—just a micro-expression, but Willa caught it.
"Alan is a specialist," Sterling said smoothly, recovering instantly. "He keeps Everett comfortable. Speaking of which... how is my dear cousin adapting to married life? Does he talk to you in his sleep?"
"He sleeps," Willa said evenly. "Just like a dead man."
Sterling stared at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, measuring her words. Then, he raised his glass. "Good. Keep it that way, Willa. Because if anything disrupts the medical schedule Dr. Whitfield has put in place... well, your mother’s memory-care facility might suddenly find itself out of funding. And trust me, state hospitals in Cook County are not nearly as comfortable."
May you like
The threat hung in the air, heavy and poisonous. Willa didn't flinch. Instead, she picked up her water glass, her fingers steady.
"I understand completely, Sterling," she whispered. "I wouldn't dream of interrupting my husband's rest."
