Chapter 3 - The Secret Visitor
By 6:00 PM, the dining room upstairs was already packed with the city’s elite. Through the ceiling vents, the faint murmur of expensive laughter, clinking crystal, and jazz music drifted down into the service corridors.
I had managed to sneak Ava out of the supply room during a brief kitchen shift change, securing her inside an empty linen locker near the laundry chute where the air was warmer and completely out of sight. I left her with a pacifier and a soft muslin cloth, promising I would check on her every ten minutes.
Balancing a heavy tray of truffle risotto and rare ribeyes, I glided through the swinging kitchen doors into the dining room. My smile was practiced, bright, and completely hollow.
“Good evening, sir. Enjoy your meal,” I murmured, placing a plate down in front of a wealthy city councilman who didn’t even bother to look up from his conversation.
“More wine, please,” a woman at the next table snapped without looking at me.
“Right away, ma’am.”
As I turned toward the service station to grab a bottle of cabernet, I caught sight of Tommy Ritchie standing near the corner of the bar, scanning the room with sharp, hawk-like eyes. He looked directly at me. My breath hitched, but I forced myself to maintain my composure, pouring wine for an elderly couple with steady hands.
When Tommy walked past me toward the back hallway, he murmured under his breath without breaking his stride: “You look pale tonight, Elena’s girl. Keep your head down. The boss is in a foul mood.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ritchie,” I whispered back, my heart pounding.
At 8:30 PM, during a brief lull, I slipped back to the linen locker to check on Ava. I pulled open the heavy metal door, praying she hadn't woken up crying.
Instead of a sleeping baby, I found a tall man standing in the dim service alcove, holding Ava in his arms.
My breath caught in my throat. It was Reed Callaway.
He was standing entirely still under the harsh fluorescent bulb, his dark overcoat unbuttoned, his sharp jawline etched in shadow. He wasn't looking at the kitchen; he was looking down at the tiny bundle in his arms. Ava wasn't crying. She was wide awake, staring up at the silver lapel pin on his jacket with wide, curious eyes, clutching one of his leather-gloved fingers in her tiny fist.
“M-Mr. Callaway,” I stammered, my voice trembling so badly it barely sounded like my own. “Please... don't hurt her. Take everything I have, fire me, do whatever you want, just don't hurt my baby.”
Reed didn't look up immediately. He slowly raised his gaze from the child to my face, his piercing grey eyes cold and unreadable.
“Is this yours?” he asked, his voice deadpan, completely devoid of the fury I had expected.
“Yes,” I whispered, tears finally spilling over my lashes. “I had no choice. My babysitter canceled, I have no money, and if I missed another shift, I would lose my job. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
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Reed stared at me for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he extended his arms and handed Ava back to me. As I pulled her safely against my chest, he adjusted his cuffs and spoke words that changed my universe forever.
“An employee who risks everything to survive is valuable,” Reed said quietly, turning his back toward the dark hallway. “An employee who lies to me is dead. You have until midnight to figure out which one you are.”
