Chapter 5 - The Cracks in the Foundation
"Listen to me very carefully, David," Marcus said, leaning against the edge of his desk. "I am going to pay off Victor Vance. Not for you. For your wife, and for your son."
David looked up, his tear-streaked face a mix of disbelief and hope. "You... you would do that?"
"But it's not a charity," Marcus continued. "You work for me now. I own logistics companies across the state. You will work ten hours a day, six days a week, managing the docks under Frank’s supervision. Every cent of your salary will go toward paying me back, with zero interest. You will move your family out of that slum by the end of the week into a brownstone I own in Lincoln Park. Do you understand?"
"Yes! Yes, anything, Mr. Vale! Thank you, God, thank you," David gasped, trying to grab Marcus's hand, but Marcus stepped back.
"Don't thank me yet. If you ever leave them alone like that again, or if you ever gamble with their safety on a bad deal, you won't have to worry about Victor Vance. You'll have to worry about me."
Leaving David with Frank to finalize the employment paperwork, Marcus took a drive back to Callaway Street. He brought with him a brand-new iPhone, identical to her old one but pristine, along with a set of keys.
When Emily opened the door, she looked slightly better than the previous night, though the exhaustion was still etched deep into her features. When she saw Marcus, her hand instinctively went to her throat.
"Mr. Vale," she said.
"Your husband is safe," Marcus said without preamble. "He’s currently at my office. He has a legitimate job now, with a steady income." He handed her the new phone and the keys. "These are the keys to a secure apartment in Lincoln Park. A moving truck will be here at nine o'clock tomorrow morning."
Emily stared at the keys in her palm, her lips parting in utter shock. "I... I don't understand. Why are you doing this for us? We are nothing to you."
May you like
Marcus looked past her into the apartment, where little Leo was sitting on the floor, coloring with a broken crayon, breathing easily.
"Because a boy shouldn't have to wonder if he's going to breathe through the night," Marcus said quietly. "And a mother shouldn't have to sell her soul to ensure he does. Pack your things, Emily."
