Security guards stood at strict attention, bowing slightly as Julian led her directly to the private express elevator that bypassed all commercial floors.
The penthouse office occupied the entire top level.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows offered a breathtaking 360-degree panorama of Lake Michigan and the sprawling city skyline.
Sitting at a comfortable glass tea table near the window was Isabella Moretti, sipping chamomile tea.
Across from her, Vincent was reviewing financial documents on a tablet, looking impeccably tailored in a dark three-piece suit without a tie.
“Emma, darling!”
Isabella set her cup down immediately, her face brightening with genuine joy.
“Come in, please!
Sit with me.”
Emma approached carefully.
“Good morning, Mrs.
Moretti.
Mr.
Moretti.”
Vincent stood up as she approached—a gesture of respect that wealthy men rarely afforded to service workers.
He gestured toward the plush armchair across from his mother.
“Please, sit down, Miss Carter.”
Emma took a seat, feeling the soft Italian leather beneath her.
“Thank you for the ride, but…
I really must know why you invited me here.
I told Mr.
Henderson I wouldn’t cause any trouble.”
“Henderson has already been removed from his position,” Vincent stated plainly, sitting back down.
“And you are not here because of trouble.
You are here because my mother made a request.”
Isabella reached across the table and took Emma’s hand gently.
“Emma, I am an old woman who dislikes having armed guards hovering over my shoulder like vultures.
But yesterday showed me that my son’s concerns for my safety are not entirely unfounded.
However, I refuse to be surrounded by mercenaries.”
Emma blinked, confused.
“Ma’am?”
“I want someone by my side whom I can trust,” Isabella explained softly.
“Someone who looks at a person and sees their soul, not their bank account.
I want you to become my personal executive companion and family liaison.”
“A… companion?”
Emma stammered.
Vincent slid a folder across the sleek table.
“Your responsibilities will include accompanying my mother to her philanthropic visits, managing her personal schedule, and overseeing her private residence staff.
The starting compensation is two hundred and fifty thousand dollars annually, full medical coverage for you and your dependents, and comprehensive housing assistance.”
Emma’s breath caught in her throat.
Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars?
Full medical coverage?
Liam’s treatments, his specialist appointments, his expensive inhalers—all of it would be secured in an instant.
Chapter 8 – Shadows in the Dark
Before Emma could finalize her answer, miles away in a private members’ club on Michigan Avenue, Victoria Sterling was meeting with a man known in Chicago’s underbelly simply as Mack.
Mack wore an ill-fitting leather jacket over a cheap button-up, his knuckle scars revealing decades of ruthless street enforcement.
He tossed a thin manila folder onto the table in front of Victoria.
“Emma Carter,” Mack said, lighting a cigarette despite the indoor smoking ban.
“Twenty-four years old.
Works double shifts at the Drake and a diner on 18th Street.
Parents died in a car crash four years ago.
She’s the sole legal guardian of her younger brother, Liam.”
Victoria leaned forward, her manicured nails digging into the edge of the folder.
“And the boy?
What’s his story?”
“Chronic respiratory illness,” Mack replied with a sinister smirk.
“Weak lungs.
Needs special treatments at St.
Jude’s Children’s Clinic every two weeks.
If he misses his nebulizer therapies, he ends up in the ICU.
The girl spends every dime keeping the kid breathing.”
A cruel, venomous smile spread across Victoria’s face.
The humiliation she had suffered at the gala—the memory of Vincent’s cold dismissal and the laughter of the high-society elites—burned in her gut like acid.
“She thinks she can destroy my life and walk away into Vincent Moretti’s good graces,” Victoria hissed, her voice trembling with hatred.
“She thinks that little display of bravery made her untouchable.”
“What do you want done, Miss Sterling?”
Mack asked, leaning in.
“A scare?
A broken arm?”
“No,” Victoria said, her eyes gleaming with dark intent.
“A broken arm won’t stop her from testifying or cozying up to the Morettis.
I want leverage.
Total, indisputable leverage.
If she wants her little brother to keep breathing, she will publicly admit that she instigated the fight at the gala, that she attacked me first, and that she lied to Vincent Moretti.”
Chapter 9 – The New Beginning
Back at Moretti Tower, Emma looked up from the contract with tears shining in her eyes.
“I accept,” she said, her voice steady and clear.
“I accept, Mr.
Moretti.
And I promise you, I will protect Mrs.
Moretti with everything I have.”
Isabella beamed, clapping her hands together with childlike delight.
“Wonderful!
Simply wonderful.
The first thing we are going to do, Emma, is get you out of that gloomy apartment and into the guest estate in Lincoln Park.”
“Mrs.
