Chapter 2 - The Envelope on Table FourThe applause that greeted Maya’s return to the microphone was no longer polite; it was electrified. The sheer audacity of Roman DeLuca stepping into the spotlight to endorse her work shifted the social gravity of the entire room. Investors who had avoided eye contact with her moments ago were now sitting forward, their expressions recalculating.
Ethan stepped back, his face rigid, masking a burning fury. As Maya delivered her final defense of Haven House—detailing the structural security protocols, the sound-dampened family suites, and the economic self-sustainability of the complex—Ethan’s phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out discreetly under the cover of the podium.
A text message from an unknown number flashed on his screen:
Your concrete delivery for the South Loop site has been delayed indefinitely. Quality inspection failure.
Ethan’s blood ran cold. The South Loop site was his flagship project, financed by foreign capital and heavily leveraged against his personal assets. A concrete delay meant missed deadlines, and missed deadlines meant default.
He looked up, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on Roman.
Roman wasn’t looking at him. He was watching Maya with an expression of absolute, unfiltered devotion—a look so tender it felt out of place on a man whispered about in federal intelligence reports.
Minutes later, the judges retreated to deliberate. The ballroom erupted into a chaotic buzz of networking, champagne clinking, and nervous laughter.
Ethan cornered Maya near the dessert bar, his veneer of corporate charm entirely shattered.
“What did you do?” Ethan hissed, his voice trembling with suppressed rage.
Maya took a sip of sparkling water, her composure unshakable. “I didn’t do anything, Ethan. You’re the one sweating.”
“Your husband—that monster you tied yourself to—just shut down my South Loop concrete supply,” Ethan spat, stepping uncomfortably close. “You think this is a game? You think because you found a billionaire thug to wipe your tears, you can destroy everything I’ve built?”
“I didn't ask him to do anything,” Maya replied steadily, meeting his frantic gaze. “And if Roman shut down your supply, it’s because your compliance standards were garbage. You always cut corners, Ethan. I just stopped cleaning up your mess three years ago.”
Before Ethan could lunge forward with another threat, a heavy hand gripped his shoulder.
It wasn't Roman.
May you like
It was Camille Rhodes, Ethan’s fiancée, holding a silver envelope bearing the seal of the Chicago Municipal Board. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face pale as parchment.
“Ethan,” Camille said, her voice eerily flat. “The judges have made their decision. And you need to see this.”
