Chapter 4 - A Whisper of Danger
The top-floor suite at the Grand Regency Hotel was larger than Lena's entire apartment building on 14th Street.
It had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the snow-covered skyline of Chicago, a massive fireplace that crackled with warm mahogany wood, a king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets, and a nursery crib already set up in the adjoining room, stocked with plush toys, organic formula, and brand-new baby clothes.
For the first three days, Lena felt like she was living in a surreal dream. Every morning, a private car arrived to take her to Calloway's, where she was given a clean, warm office on the second floor. Her new job involved managing Dominic's non-underworld schedules—handling reservations for high-profile diplomats, organizing charitable donations, and overseeing restaurant inventory.
Nora was allowed to stay in a cozy nursery room right next to Lena's office, watched over by a sweet, vetted elderly woman named Maria, whom Dominic had personally hired.
For the first time in eight months, Lena could breathe. She bought new winter coats, paid off her lingering utility bills, and even had enough money left over to put into a savings account for Nora’s future.
But in the city of Chicago, peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by greed.
In a dimly lit bar on the North Side, far away from the warmth of Calloway's, Diane sat at a corner booth, nursing a glass of cheap bourbon. Her eyes were red-rimmed with anger, her fingernails digging into the wooden table.
Across from her sat a man with sharp features, slicked-back hair, and a dangerous aura that matched Dominic's—Julian O'Connor.
Julian was the head of the O'Connor crime syndicate, the rival faction responsible for the car bomb three years ago. For years, Julian had been looking for a crack in Dominic Vance’s armor, a weakness he could exploit to tear down the empire Vance had built.
"So let me get this straight," Julian sneered, leaning forward, swirling his drink. "Dominic fired you—his manager of four years—because of some broke waitress and her bastard kid?"
"He didn't just fire me, Julian," Diane spat bitterly. "He moved her into the Regency! He doubled her pay! He treats that little girl like she’s royalty! The cold, untouchable Dominic Vance has a soft spot, and it’s a twenty-six-year-old girl from 14th Street."
Julian’s thin lips slowly stretched into a cruel, calculating smile.
"A soft spot," Julian mused softly, resting his chin on his hands. "The man who destroyed three of my shipping yards last year without shedding a tear now has something he wants to protect again."
"He keeps her close," Diane warned. "He has his head of security, Vincent, watching her like a hawk."
"Vincent can't be everywhere at once," Julian said quietly, reaching into his coat pocket and tossing a heavy stack of hundred-dollar bills onto the table in front of Diane. "Tell me her routine. Where she goes, when she leaves the restaurant, what road the car takes."
Diane looked at the money, her eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. She picked up the cash and slid it into her purse.
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"She leaves Calloway's every evening at six," Diane whispered. "And she always goes back to the Regency through the alley on 8th Street."
Julian stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. "Thank you, Diane. You've been very helpful."
