Chapter 4 - The Price of Loyalty
The days following the encounter in the private room were a blur of cold terror and quiet defiance. Tessa knew she was being watched. When she left her apartment, she saw the same black sedan idling at the corner. When she walked to the bus stop, she felt eyes on her from the windows of passing cars.
She kept going to work, because work was the only thing that felt normal. But the atmosphere at Bellamy’s had shifted. The kitchen staff, once eager to sabotage her, were now terrified of her. They had seen Salvatore walk her to her car after the banquet, his hand resting on the small of her back in a gesture that was both protective and possessive.
Brett had gone quiet, too. He realized he had opened a door he couldn't close. He had wanted to hurt Tessa, but he hadn't wanted to trigger a war.
One evening, Tessa was closing up the restaurant when Salvatore appeared. He looked haggard, his dark hair disheveled, the scar on his temple standing out starkly against his pale skin. He didn't sign at first. He just looked at her, his eyes searching hers for an answer she wasn't sure she had.
They want me to remove you from my life, he signed, his movements heavy. They think you are my weakness.
Tessa reached out, placing her hand over his. Am I?
Salvatore’s hands trembled—the only time she had ever seen him lose his composure. You are the only thing that makes me want to be strong.
He told her then about the board of directors—a group of men who controlled the shell companies that propped up his empire. They viewed his disability as a tactical advantage, a way to keep him at a distance, but they viewed his connection to Tessa as a humanizing failure. They wanted her gone, and if he didn't do it, they would.
I will not let them touch you, he signed, his gaze fierce. I am moving you to a place where they cannot find you.
I’m not running, Tessa signed back, her gray eyes burning. I’ve spent my whole life running. I’m tired of it.
Salvatore didn't argue. He understood the resolve in her hands better than any spoken word. He pulled a small, silver key from his pocket and pressed it into her palm.
This is to a safe house. If the restaurant becomes too dangerous, go there. I have people who will protect you.
Tessa took the key, the metal cold against her skin. What about you?
I will finish this, he signed. And then I will come for you.
As he walked away into the dark Chicago night, Tessa felt the weight of the key in her hand. She realized that the lines between the "real" world and the world she had stumbled into were dissolving. There was no more "waitress" Tessa, no more "invisible" Tessa. There was only the woman who had dared to speak to a man everyone else was too afraid to hear.
The next day, she returned to Bellamy’s to find her locker had been broken into. Everything she had kept there—a few books, a spare uniform, a picture of Danny—was gone.
Brett was waiting for her by the kitchen door, his grin back in place, though it looked brittle.
"You're done, Tessa," he said. "The manager knows everything. He knows you’re involved with a mobster. He knows you’ve been using the private room for... other things. You’re being fired."
Tessa didn't cry. She didn't argue. She stood there, her head held high, looking at the boy who thought he was a king of the restaurant floor.
"You think you’ve won, Brett," she said, her voice soft but carrying in the quiet kitchen. "But all you’ve done is take away the only thing that kept me tied to this place."
She turned and walked out of Bellamy’s, the heavy glass door swinging shut behind her for the last time. As she stepped out into the cold November air, she didn't feel lost. She felt liberated.
May you like
She walked toward the train station, but she didn't go to the bus stop. She pulled the silver key from her pocket and looked at the address engraved on the tag.
The battle for Salvatore Marquetti’s soul—and her own—had begun.
