Chapter 5 - The Deal in the KitchenEmma stumbled back against the kitchen counter, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The two massive guards remained outside, but Gabriel stood in her modest living room, looking completely out of place yet entirely in control.
"You broke my door," Emma managed to whisper, her fear fighting a bitter war with her sudden anger.
Gabriel glanced at the dangling chain, then back to her. "I apologize for the property damage. Send the bill to my office. It will be paid within the hour." He walked slowly toward the kitchen, his dark eyes taking in everything—the worn furniture, the stack of past-due medical bills on the refrigerator, the quiet old woman staring blankly out the window.
"You gave my daughter your blood, Ms. Brooks," Gabriel said, turning to face her. "O-negative. Rare. You walked a mile through a downpour carrying her. And then you vanished."
"She needed help," Emma said, lifting her chin despite her shaking knees. "Anyone would have done it."
"No," Gabriel said sharply, taking a step closer. "People in this city walk past dying children every single day out of fear. You didn't. You ran toward the fire. And because of that, my daughter Sophie is sitting up in a hospital bed eating strawberries."
A heavy silence settled over the kitchen. Emma could hear the faint ticking of the wall clock.
"What do you want from me?" Emma asked, her voice trembling. "If you're here to threaten me—"
"I don't threaten people who save my family," Gabriel said, his tone turning dangerously smooth. "I repay them. I know your story, Emma. I know about the bakery you lost. I know about your mother’s medical bills piling up. I know you're working seventy hours a week at a freezing packaging plant just to keep the lights on."
Emma’s breath caught. "How do you..."
"Nothing in this city happens without me knowing," Gabriel said simply. He pulled a heavy leather checkbook from his jacket pocket, flipped it open with a gold pen, and looked up at her. "Name your price. A hundred thousand? A million? Buy your bakery back. Pay off the medical debt. Never work another night in that freezer again."
May you like
Emma stared at the checkbook, then looked up into Gabriel's unreadable eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she shook her head.
"Put that away, Mr. Moretti," she said, her voice steadying. "I didn't save your daughter for a paycheck. And I don't take blood money."
