Chapter 2 - The $6,000 Clock
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The cold air inside the West Side apartment felt heavy, almost suffocating. Dela stood near the small kitchen counter, the white index card trembling in her fingers.
She remembered that chaotic night in the county morgue two years ago. She remembered the blinding fluorescent lights, the smell of antiseptic, and the cold shock of seeing Elias under a white sheet. A paramedic had handed her a stack of papers to sign—standard release forms, or so she had been told.
“I didn't sign a waiver,” Dela whispered to the empty room. “They told me the state had already ruled it an accidental rollover.”
She flipped the card over. There was no signature, no phone number, no clue as to who had dropped the envelope under her door. Someone inside the Meridian tower knew who she really was. Someone knew she was Elias Hawthorne’s widow.
The next morning at six o'clock, Dela was back on the fortieth floor. The physical toll of the pregnancy was becoming harder to conceal. Her ankles were swollen, and the constant ache in her lower back felt like a hot iron pressed against her spine.
In the kitchen, Teddy was preparing the prep stations for the afternoon lunch rush.
“You look like a ghost,” Teddy observed, setting down a bowl of fresh lemons. “Did you sleep at all?”
“A little,” Dela lied, adjusting her apron strings. “Teddy, who manages the private delivery entrance on level B2?”
Teddy stopped wiping the stainless steel counter. She looked at Dela with sharp, calculating eyes. “Why are you asking about B2? That’s where the private shipments come in. Vandermir’s personal security controls that floor.”
“Just curious,” Dela murmured, picking up a tray of clean silverware. “I saw a courier down there yesterday.”
“Listen to me, Dela,” Teddy said, her voice dropping to a stern whisper, leaning across the prep table. “The men who walk through level B2 aren't hotel guests. They don't leave tips, and they don't leave witnesses. You keep your head down, do your job, and get that six thousand dollars for your baby. Leave the rest alone.”
“I can't leave it alone,” Dela thought, though she kept her mouth shut.
At noon, the dining room filled with Chicago’s elite. At table twelve, Margot Sinclair sat with three wealthy socialites. Her laughter was loud, sharp, and deliberate, ringing across the room every time a staff member passed by.
Dela approached with a tray of sparkling wine.
“Excuse me, waitress,” Margot called out, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
Dela paused, keeping her chin level and her eyes downcast. “Yes, ma'am?”
Margot gestured toward her glass. “This water tastes like tap. Are you using filtered ice, or is the Meridian cutting corners on basic hygiene?”
The other women at the table snickered behind their manicured hands.
“We use triple-filtered spring water for all table service, ma'am,” Dela replied calmly, her tone entirely neutral. “I would be happy to bring you a fresh glass directly from the bar.”
Margot’s eyes drifted down to Dela’s midsection, taking in the loose fit of the oversized jacket. A cruel smirk played on her lips.
“You seem a bit slow today,” Margot remarked loudly enough for neighboring tables to hear. “Perhaps the manager should assign us someone a bit more... agile. Some of us actually have important business to conduct.”
Dela felt the heat rise in her cheeks, but she didn't blink. She had survived rigorous cross-examinations by top defense attorneys during her law school moot court days; a spoiled heiress's insults meant nothing to her.
“I will fetch your water immediately,” Dela said smoothly.
As she turned to leave, she caught sight of Augustine Vandermir standing near the grand entrance of the dining room. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, surrounded by three bodyguards.
May you like
Gus wasn't looking at his fiancée. His dark, impenetrable eyes were fixed directly on Dela.
For a brief, electric moment, their eyes met across the crowded room. Dela felt an inexplicable chill run down her spine. Gus didn't look at her like a patron looking at a waitress. He looked at her like a man who knew every secret she was trying so desperately to hide.
