Chapter 9 - THE UNINVITED GUESTThree weeks later.
The grand reopening of the Gilded Spoon was the biggest event in Chicago.
The white tablecloths were immaculate, the brass fixtures gleamed under the soft chandelier lighting, and the air smelled once again of truffle oil, lemon polish, and success. But the culture of the restaurant had completely changed. There were no arrogant managers, no berating of staff, and every employee was paid three times the industry standard.
I stood near the entrance, wearing a tailored navy suit, holding the general manager’s tablet.
“Everything looks perfect, Miss Tate,” the head chef said, stepping out of the kitchen with a warm smile. “We’re ready for the 7:00 PM seating.”
“Great work, Marco,” I smiled back. “Let’s open the doors.”
Gabriel and Maya sat at table four—the corner booth. It had been redesigned with a custom glass sculpture in the center, depicting a stylized feather made of crystal—a tribute to resilience and voice.
I walked over to their table, pulling out a chair to join them.
“How is the general manager life treating you?” Gabriel asked, pouring two glasses of sparkling water—and one glass of still for Maya.
“It’s a lot less chaotic than running through sewers,” I laughed, taking a sip. “Though dealing with city inspectors comes close.”
Maya giggled—a clear, sweet sound that made my heart melt every time I heard it. She was attending speech therapy three times a week and was regaining her full voice with remarkable speed.
Suddenly, the heavy front glass doors opened.
A tall woman stepped into the restaurant. She was wearing an elegant white trench coat, dark sunglasses, and red lipstick. Her presence immediately pulled the air out of the room.
Two large security guards in black suits stepped in right behind her.
Gabriel froze. The warmth left his face instantly, replaced by a cold, sharp stillness.
The woman took off her sunglasses, revealing piercing emerald-green eyes that looked terrifyingly familiar.
She walked straight past the host stand, her high heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor, stopping right in front of table four.
She looked down at Maya, her lips trembling slightly.
“Hello, Gabriel,” the woman said, her voice smooth and melodic.
Gabriel stood up slowly, his body rigid with disbelief. “...Elena?”
My heart stopped. Elena?
Gabriel’s wife. The woman who was supposed to have been killed by the Sokolovs ten years ago.
“You’re dead,” Gabriel whispered, his voice shaking. “I buried you.”
May you like
Elena pulled a slender gold cigarette case from her purse, looking around the luxurious restaurant before fixing her eyes on Gabriel.
“You buried an empty coffin, darling,” Elena said with a cold, beautiful smile. “The Sokolovs didn't kill me. I run the Sokolovs.”
