Chapter 5 - The Watching King
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The rain had stopped by morning, leaving the city beneath a layer of white fog.
Dela sat in her small apartment, looking at the crisp white envelope Gus’s driver had delivered to her door at dawn. Inside was a cashier's check for three thousand dollars—half of the agreed retainer fee—and a note written in precise, elegant handwriting:
“Balance paid upon completion on Thursday night. Focus on Victor’s chief counsel, Arthur Vance. He carries the real ledger.”
Dela held the check in her trembling fingers. Three thousand dollars. It was enough to secure her surgical slot at the private hospital immediately, ensuring her baby’s safety regardless of what happened next week.
She picked up her phone and dialed the hospital admissions office, securing her reservation.
When she arrived at the Meridian for her afternoon shift, the atmosphere in the building was electric. Staff members were rushing through the hallways, hanging silk drapes, polishing silver platters, and prepping the grand ballroom for the upcoming Sinclair Gala.
In the employee breakroom, Teddy was sipping tea.
“You look different today,” Teddy noted, watching Dela tie her apron. “The weight on your shoulders seems a little lighter.”
“I took care of the deposit,” Dela said softly.
Teddy let out a long sigh of relief. “Thank God. Now tell me you’re taking it easy until next week.”
“I can't,” Dela replied, looking at Teddy. “Next Thursday night is the Sinclair dinner. I’m working the executive table.”
Teddy stopped her mug halfway to her lips. “Dela, no. That’s Margot Sinclair’s private party. She’s been asking questions about you all morning.”
Dela paused. “What kind of questions?”
“She asked the manager for your full employee file,” Teddy warned, her voice hushed. “She wanted to know why an overqualified girl with no prior restaurant experience was hired to serve the executive floor. Margot isn't stupid, Dela. She knows Gus is watching you.”
“Let her ask,” Dela said coldly. “She won't find anything she can use.”
Across the city, inside a high-rise office overlooking Michigan Avenue, Victor Sinclair sat across from his daughter.
Victor was sixty-one, with silver hair, sharp features, and the cold demeanor of a man who had built his fortune on crushed competitors.
“Are you sure about the waitress, Margot?” Victor asked, swirling a glass of whiskey.
“I’m telling you, Father, Gus looked at her like she was someone important,” Margot insisted bitterly, pacing across the plush carpet. “And she hides her face whenever management walks by. I had my assistant run her name—Delilah Hawthorne. She doesn't exist in any restaurant registry in the state prior to seven months ago.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Hawthorne? Where have I heard that name before?”
Margot shrugged dismissively. “It doesn't matter who she is. I want her humiliated and fired before the contract signing on Thursday. I won't have a pathetic, pregnant servant distracting Gus on the biggest night of our lives.”
Victor held up a hand, his expression turning grim. “Wait. Two years ago... the forensic accountant from Miller & Associates. Elias Hawthorne.”
Margot paused. “The man who died in the highway accident?”
Victor stood up slowly, a dark smile creeping across his face. “So... the widow came hunting for her husband’s ghost in Vandermir’s tower. How convenient.”
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“What are we going to do?” Margot asked.
“We do nothing to stop her,” Victor said, his voice dripping with malice. “On Thursday night, in front of thirty-two of the wealthiest investors in the city, we will turn Mrs. Hawthorne into our greatest spectacle. By the time I’m finished with her, Gus won't just sign the contract—he’ll be forced to destroy her himself to save his own reputation.”
