Chapter 3 - The True Debt
Before Sterling could answer, the kitchen doors burst open.
"Rory! Rory, oh my God!"
My mother came sprinting out of the kitchen, her hair messy, her apron stained with dishwater and tomato sauce. She had been frantically searching the restrooms for me, only to hear whispers from the busboys that her four-year-old daughter was standing in the middle of the main dining room with the neighborhood’s most terrifying syndicate leader.
Elena dropped to her knees in front of me, grabbing my arms, her body trembling with sheer panic.
"Rory! What are you doing?!" she whispered hysterically, checking my hands, my face, my clothes. "Are you okay? Did you touch something? Did you bother these gentlemen?"
"I gave him the paper, Mommy," I whispered back, pointing my small finger at Mr. Kane. "The one with the stars."
My mother’s face turned completely white. She looked up slowly, meeting the dark, imposing gaze of Vincent Kane. Tears instantly filled her eyes as she pulled me tightly against her chest, using her own body to shield me.
"Mr. Kane... please," my mother begged, her voice shaking violently. "I am so sorry. She’s just a child, she doesn't know what she's doing! Please don't hurt her! We'll leave! We'll pack our things and leave Chicago tonight! I won't ask for the money, I swear!"
Mr. Kane looked down at my mother. The terrifying hardness in his eyes melted slightly, replaced by a deep, solemn respect.
"Stand up, young lady," Mr. Kane said gently.
When my mother hesitated, Mr. Kane offered her his own gloved hand, helping her to her feet.
"Your daughter did nothing wrong," Mr. Kane told her. "She didn't beg. She didn't cry. She came to collect what was rightfully earned. You raised a very brave girl, Elena."
My mother blinked back her tears, completely stunned. "You... you know my name?"
"I know everyone who works on my turf," Mr. Kane replied smoothly. He turned his gaze back to Sterling, who was frantically pulling stacks of hundred-dollar bills from a safe behind the bar.
Sterling hurried back, his hands shaking so violently he nearly dropped the cash. He shoved a thick stack of bills onto the table in front of Mr. Kane.
"There!" Sterling panted. "There’s six thousand dollars! Keep the change! Just... just tell your men to stand down, Mr. Kane!"
Mr. Kane didn't touch the money. Instead, he motioned for my mother to look at it.
"Is this correct, Elena?" Mr. Kane asked.
"I... yes," my mother whispered, staring at the pile of cash that meant rent, warm clothes, and food for months. "The debt was five thousand four hundred..."
"The extra six hundred is interest," Mr. Kane declared flatly. He picked up the stack of money and placed it directly into my mother’s trembling hands. "For the purple stars."
Sterling let out a breath of relief, wiping his forehead with a cloth. "Thank God. Okay, well, now that we’re settled, Elena, you’re fired. Get your things and get out of my restaurant—"
GLASS SHATTERING!
Mr. Kane took his heavy crystal whiskey tumbler and smashed it onto the mahogany bar. The deafening crack made everyone jump.
"You didn't listen to me, Julian," Mr. Kane said, his voice dropping into a register that made the floorboards vibrate. "I told you that if I had to intervene, I was buying this restaurant for one dollar."
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a single, crumpled one-dollar bill, and slapped it onto Sterling’s chest.
"Victor," Mr. Kane spoke to his chief lieutenant. "Call my legal team. Execute the immediate eminent domain clause on the property lease due to gross health and labor violations. Julian Sterling is no longer the owner of Sterling’s Bistro."
Sterling’s mouth hung open in absolute horror. "You... you can't do this! I invested my life savings into this place! You can't just take it for a dollar!"
"I just did," Mr. Kane replied calmly. He turned to my mother, gesturing toward the beautiful, warm dining room. "Elena... starting tomorrow, this restaurant is renamed Elena’s. You are the head manager and fifty-percent equity owner. My office will handle the accounting to ensure you are never cheated again."
My mother gasped, dropping her purse to the floor. "Mr. Kane... I... I can't accept this! I'm just a waitress! I don't know how to run a fine-dining restaurant!"
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Mr. Kane looked down at me, a tiny, genuine smile finally reaching his eyes.
"You survived seventy-seven days of hunger to keep your daughter alive," Mr. Kane said softly. "You already know how to run a kingdom. My staff will handle the rest."
