Chapter 4 - THE LAWYER'S DOCUMENTS
The atmosphere in Harrison & Cole shattered the moment Peter stepped back through the doors.
He wasn't acting like a terrified restaurant manager anymore. He walked with a cold, arrogant swagger, flanked by men whose tailored suits couldn't hide the dangerous bulk of their shoulders.
I stood frozen beside table nine, my fingers still resting on my father’s cracked silver pocket watch.
Daniel Whitmore slowly stood up. The billionaire didn't look intimidated. He looked like a man who had just found the snake that had been biting his ankles for decades.
“Peter,” Daniel said, his voice dangerously low. “I told you to get out of my sight.”
“You don't own this restaurant, Mr. Whitmore,” Peter sneered, stopping a few feet from our table. “You just lost the deal to buy the parent company. And since you're no longer a prospective investor, you’re just another customer causing a disturbance.”
Peter looked at Arthur, his lips curling into a vicious smile. “And we don't serve vagrants.”
“You son of a bitch,” Daniel growled, taking a step forward.
One of the suited men immediately stepped between them, putting a heavy hand on Daniel’s chest. Daniel knocked it away effortlessly, but the tension spiked.
“Careful, Daniel,” Peter warned, tapping the thick manila envelope against his leg. “You might have billions, but you don't have the paperwork. My family does.”
I looked at Peter, sick to my stomach. “Your father,” I said, my voice shaking. “Your father was Marcus Vance.”
Marcus Vance had been a notorious loan shark and mob enforcer in Chicago thirty years ago. He was the man who had supposedly gone legitimate, buying up real estate and restaurants.
Peter looked at me and laughed. “I see the old man has been telling fairy tales. Go clean a toilet, Rachel. You're fired. For real this time.”
“She’s not going anywhere,” Daniel snapped. He looked at the envelope. “What is that, Peter?”
Peter smiled. He opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of yellowed, notarized documents. He tossed them onto the table, right next to my father’s broken watch.
“It’s a cease and desist,” Peter said smoothly. “And an eviction notice for Mr. Bennett’s rent-controlled apartment. My family bought his building this morning.”
Arthur gasped, clutching his chest. “You can't do that. I’ve lived there for forty years. I pay my rent on time.”
“You’ve been a thorn in my family's side for forty years, Arthur,” Peter corrected coldly. “My father warned you to leave town after you sold the warehouse land to the kid instead of him. You stayed. You thought hiding as a janitor would keep you safe.”
A reversal hit me like a physical blow.
Arthur hadn't become a janitor because he lost all his money. He became a janitor to hide. He gave up his life, his identity, to stay off the Vance family's radar.
“Why?” I asked Arthur, tears burning my eyes. “Why did you stay if they wanted you dead?”
Arthur looked at me, a profound, agonizing sorrow in his eyes.
“Because I promised your father I would watch over you,” Arthur whispered.
My breath caught in my throat. I looked at the old man. The man who came in every September—the month of my birthday. The man who always asked how my son Tyler was doing in school. He hadn't just been a polite regular. He had been a guardian angel, keeping a silent vigil over the family of the man who saved his life.
“Touching,” Peter mocked, rolling his eyes. “But playtime is over. My father is dying. He’s finalizing his estate. He wants all loose ends tied up. Arthur is a loose end. The apartment is gone. And if he comes near any of my properties again, he’ll be arrested for trespassing.”
Daniel picked up the eviction notice, his eyes scanning the legal jargon. His jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would shatter.
“You think a piece of paper stops me, Peter?” Daniel said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “I will buy his building from you for double what you paid. Right now.”
“Not for sale,” Peter smiled. “It’s about respect, Daniel. Something you clearly forgot when you insulted Elaine Mercer tonight.”
Peter turned to me. “Pack your locker, Rachel. If you're not out in ten minutes, I’m calling the police to have you removed.”
I looked down at the silver watch. The watch my father had bled for. The watch Arthur had pawned his life to recover.
I didn't pack my locker.
I picked up the watch and shoved it into my apron pocket.
“I’m leaving,” I said, looking Peter dead in the eye. “But you're going to regret tonight.”
Peter laughed. “I highly doubt that.”
I walked toward the front doors. Daniel threw a hundred-dollar bill onto the table for Arthur's coffee and grabbed the old man gently by the shoulder, guiding him out behind me.
We stepped out into the freezing Chicago night. The wind bit through my thin blouse, but I was too angry to feel it.
Daniel turned to Arthur. “You’re coming with me. I have an extra bedroom in the penthouse. You’re never sleeping in a vulnerable building again.”
Arthur shook his head. “I can't, Danny. If I go with you, they’ll target your businesses. I’m a liability.”
“You’re family,” Daniel said fiercely. “And they already declared war on me.”
Daniel looked at me. “Rachel, what about you? Are you safe? Can you make rent without this job?”
“I’ll figure it out,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. It was a lie. I was terrified. But I couldn't accept charity from a billionaire.
Before Daniel could argue, my cell phone rang in my pocket.
I pulled it out. The caller ID said TYLER.
“Tyler?” I answered, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. “Honey, it’s late, is everything okay?”
“Mom,” Tyler’s voice trembled on the other end of the line. He sounded terrified. “Mom, you need to come home right now.”
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“What’s wrong?” I cried, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“There are men here,” Tyler whispered, crying now. “They kicked in the front door. They’re tearing the house apart. They said they’re looking for a ledger.”
