Chapter 2 - The 10 AM UltimatumThe lobby of the Crowe Financial building on North Michigan Avenue looked less like a corporate headquarters and more like a high-security federal penitentiary disguised as an art gallery. Floors of polished black granite reflected minimalist steel sculptures, and security guards wore suits that couldn't completely conceal the shoulder holsters beneath them.
Nina checked her watch for the tenth time. 9:58 AM.
She was wearing her only interview suit—a navy blue thrift-store find with slightly frayed cuffs that she had spent an hour ironing until her arms ached. Her reflection in the glass doors showed a tired twenty-four-year-old with dark circles under her eyes, hair pulled back into a severe knot, and a knot of pure dread twisting in her stomach.
When the digital clock flipped to 10:00 AM sharp, the private elevator chimed.
The brushed-steel doors slid open, and there stood Sebastian Crowe, flanked by two towering men who looked like they ate iron nails for breakfast. But it wasn’t Sebastian that made Nina’s breath catch—it was the massive, muscled shape sitting calmly beside him.
Cerberus.
The pit bull lifted his heavy head, locked amber eyes on Nina, and let out a soft, huffing sound that bore an uncanny resemblance to a greeting.
“You’re punctual,” Sebastian remarked, stepping out of the elevator. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit today, the white cuffs of his shirt crisp against his wrists. His gaze swept over her frayed cuffs with an unreadable expression. “Punctuality is a rare commodity in your line of work.”
“I’m only ever late when public transit decides to break down, Mr. Crowe,” Nina replied, keeping her voice steady as she stepped past the guards. “Though considering how your private equity friends treat waitstaff, I’m starting to think I should have stayed in bed.”
One of the bodyguards stiffened, his hand twitching toward his jacket. Sebastian held up a single finger, stopping him instantly.
“Brave,” Sebastian noted, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Or suicidal. Step inside.”
The private elevator whisked them to the forty-second floor, a sprawling penthouse office overlooking a gray, churning Lake Michigan. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Chicago skyline, but the room itself was stark—dark wood, leather furniture, and a massive mahogany desk covered in dense stacks of financial ledgers.
Sebastian walked behind the desk, but he didn't sit down. He poured two fingers of amber liquid into a heavy crystal glass, swirling it slowly.
Cerberus trotted over to a massive sheepskin rug in the corner, circled twice, and flopped down with a heavy sigh, keeping his amber eyes fixed squarely on Nina.
“Let’s dispense with the corporate pleasantries, Ms. Harper,” Sebastian said, leaning his hip against the edge of the desk. “You work sixty hours a week at The Serpent Room, plus a Saturday shift at a diner in wicker park. Your mother’s medical debt sits at fourteen thousand, two hundred and ten dollars. Your apartment on Racine Street has a leaky roof, and your landlord is threatening eviction.”
Nina froze, the blood draining entirely from her face. A cold, furious spike of adrenaline pierced her chest.
“You investigated me?” she hissed, taking a step forward. “By what right—?”
“By the right of absolute survival in a city that eats people like you alive,” Sebastian interrupted, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its casual warmth and hardening into pure, razor-sharp steel. “You think I bring stray dogs and waitresses into my office for charity? Look at this ledger.”
He spun a heavy leather-bound book toward her.
Nina didn’t move.
“Open it,” he commanded.
Reluctantly, her hands trembling with a mix of fury and fear, Nina stepped forward and flipped open the heavy pages. Columns of names, dates, and exorbitant debt figures stared back at her. At the top of the page, highlighted in red ink, was a name she recognized with a sickening lurch in her stomach: Caleb Whitmore.
“Whitmore’s private equity firm has been systematically buying up medical debt in the lower-income districts, bundling it, and using predatory foreclosure tactics to seize property from vulnerable families,” Sebastian explained, his eyes locking onto hers. “Including your mother’s neighborhood. Including the building your mother lives in.”
Nina’s breath hitched. “That’s… that’s impossible. Her debt is with Mercy General—”
“Mercy General sold its distressed portfolios to Whitmore’s shell company three weeks ago,” Sebastian cut in ruthlessly. “He was at The Serpent Room last night celebrating his latest hostile acquisition. When he grabbed your wrist, he wasn’t just being a drunken pig. He was sending a message to anyone connected to the properties he’s about to bulldoze.”
The room seemed to tilt sideways. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a high-pitched whine that echoed in Nina’s ears. All the pieces clicked together—the predatory grip, the cruel smirk, the way Marcus and the other staff had frozen in absolute terror.
“Why are you telling me this?” Nina whispered, her voice cracking.
Sebastian pushed off the desk, walking slowly toward her until he was standing close enough that she could see the tiny silver flecks in his dark irises.
“Because,” Sebastian said softly, “Cerberus doesn’t protect strangers. And neither do I. But right now, we happen to have a common enemy. I want you to work for me, Nina. Not as a waitress. As an insider.”
May you like
Nina stared up at him, her chest heaving. “An insider? Doing what?”
“Doing what you do best,” Sebastian smiled, a cold, merciless expression that promised absolute ruin to anyone standing in his way. “Watching the people who think they’re untouchable—while my dog makes sure you live to tell the tale.”
