Chapter 4 - The Backstage Meeting

Ten minutes later, the swinging doors from the industrial kitchen burst open, and Sarah Carter hurried into the dining room, her face stark white, a yellow cleaning rag still clutched in her hand.

"Rory!" Sarah cried out, her voice cracking as she scanned the empty, silent room. "Rory, what on earth—oh my god."

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who her daughter was sitting with.

Vincent Kane. The man whose name was whispered in hushed tones across every kitchen, warehouse, and boardroom in Chicago. The man who owned the building her landlord feared.

Sarah’s knees buckled slightly. She dropped the rag, her hands flying to her mouth. "Mr. Kane... I am so, so sorry. She wandered off, she didn't mean to—I’ll take her home right now, we’ll pack our things, please don't—"

"Mother," Rory said around a mouthful of whipped cream, "Mr. Kane got my hot chocolate."

Vincent raised a hand, cutting off Sarah’s frantic apologies.

"Sit down, Mrs. Carter," Vincent said, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

Sarah looked like she was walking to the electric chair, but she obeyed, sinking slowly onto the velvet upholstery. Her eyes darted from Vincent to the check resting neatly beside his water glass.

"Your daughter is remarkably persistent," Vincent said, his voice entirely devoid of menace as he slid the check across the table toward her. "And your record-keeping is exceptional. The purple stars were a nice touch."

Sarah looked down at the check. Her breath caught in her throat.

It was made out in David Sterling’s messy signature for six thousand four hundred thirty dollars and thirty cents—the full amount plus a thousand dollars for "inconvenience."

"I... I can't take this," Sarah whispered, pushing it back slightly. "Sterling will fire me. He’ll call the police, he’ll say I stole it—"

"Sterling won't say a word," Vincent replied calmly. "In fact, Sterling has decided to take an extended vacation to the Cayman Islands starting this afternoon. Effective immediately, the management of this restaurant is being transferred to a receiver appointed by my firm. You will retain your position as head of cleaning and estate oversight, with a forty percent pay raise and retroactive benefits."

Sarah stared at him, tears finally spilling over her eyelids and tracking down her cheeks. She didn't wipe them away. She just stared at the piece of paper that represented the end of eleven weeks of terror, sleepless nights, and empty refrigerators.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why would you do this for us?"

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Vincent took a slow sip of his black coffee, his dark eyes shifting momentarily toward the front window where the Chicago snow was beginning to spit against the glass.

"Because seventy-seven days is a long time to work for nothing," Vincent said quietly. "And because someone should have taught David Sterling a lesson a long time ago. Your daughter just happened to be the one with the courage to do it."