Chapter 2 - The Corner Table
The main dining room was humming with quiet conversation, but the back corner booth remained completely silent.
Sitting in the shadow of the tall leather banquette was Vincent Kane. At forty-seven, Vincent was the undisputed sovereign of Chicago’s underworld—a towering man with dark swept-back hair, light stubble, and intense gray-blue eyes. Dressed in an immaculate black three-piece suit and black tie, his calm, intimidating presence dictated the energy of the entire restaurant.
Standing half a step behind him was Marco Russo, his forty-three-year-old head of security, broad-shouldered and alert in a fitted black suit with a discreet earpiece. Three other guards stood posted near the surrounding pillars.
As Rory walked quietly across the carpeted floor, her red cardigan a bright spot of color against the dim room, two of Vincent's bodyguards stepped forward to intercept her.
Vincent raised a single finger.
Instantly, every guard froze in place.
Rory stopped right beside Vincent’s table. She wasn't afraid of the sharp suits or the heavy silence. She stepped close, pulled the folded lined paper from her pocket, and placed it directly onto the white tablecloth in front of the most feared man in Chicago.
Vincent looked down at the paper, then lifted his piercing gray-blue eyes to the little girl standing beside him.
"Why did you come to me?" Vincent asked, his voice low, deep, and unnaturally calm.
May you like
Rory reached out with her small hand and unfolded the paper, revealing line after line of handwritten dates, hours, and purple crayon stars.
"My mommy worked all these days," Rory said, her small voice clear and unyielding. "But Mr. Sterling still won't pay her."
