Chapter 2 - The Calls Begin
Emma woke to the sound of her phone vibrating against the nightstand.
The screen showed an unknown number. She almost let it go to voicemail, then answered.
“Emma Carter?”
A woman’s voice, efficient and cool.
“Yes.”
“This is Patricia from Apex Catering. We need you to come in this morning. Nine o’clock. Bring your uniform and any event credentials.”
Emma sat up. “Am I being fired?”
A pause. “We’ll discuss it in person.”
She hung up.
Lily was already awake, making coffee in the kitchen. Emma told her about the call.
“Want me to come with you?” Lily asked.
“No. Stay. Study. I’ll text you.”
Emma took the bus again. The Apex office sat in a plain brick building near the river, far from the ballrooms they staffed. She arrived five minutes early and waited in a plastic chair under fluorescent lights that hummed.
At 9:07 a woman in a gray blazer called her name.
Patricia’s office was small and neat. A single plant sat on the windowsill, leaves dusty.
“Sit down, Emma.”
Emma sat.
Patricia folded her hands. “Victoria Langford has made formal complaints to three of our major clients. She has also contacted the venue directly. They are reviewing whether to continue using Apex for future events.”
Emma’s mouth went dry. “I stopped her from hitting an elderly woman.”
“That is not the version circulating. The circulating version is that a server physically restrained a guest without cause and caused a public scene.”
“There were witnesses.”
“Most of whom will not want to be involved. The ones who will talk are the ones who side with Langford.” Patricia’s voice stayed even. “I reviewed the security footage. You did put your hands on her. That alone is enough under our policy.”
Emma felt the floor tilt slightly. “So I’m fired.”
“Suspended pending review. Unpaid. We will decide within ten business days whether the suspension becomes termination. In the meantime, do not contact any clients or venues. Do not discuss the incident publicly.”
Emma stood. Her legs felt unsteady. “I need the work.”
“I know. Your file shows consistent attendance and no prior incidents. That is the only reason this is not immediate termination.” Patricia pushed a form across the desk. “Sign the acknowledgment.”
Emma signed. The pen felt heavy.
Outside, the morning air was sharp. She walked two blocks before she realized she was heading toward the hospital instead of home.
Her father, Robert Carter, occupied a shared room on the fourth floor. The other bed was empty today. He was awake, watching a muted television mounted high on the wall.
He smiled when he saw her. The smile still looked like him, even with the oxygen cannula and the thinness in his face.
“You look like you haven’t slept,” he said.
“Neither have you.”
He waved a hand. “Nurses keep waking me to check things. How was the event?”
Emma sat on the edge of the visitor chair. “Complicated.”
Robert waited. He always waited when she used that word.
She told him a cleaned version. No raised hand. No names that would worry him. Just that there had been an incident and she was on unpaid leave while it was sorted.
Robert’s face tightened. “You’ll find something else. You always do.”
“I know.”
He reached for her hand. His fingers were cooler than they should have been. “Don’t skip meals to stretch the money. Your sister needs you thinking straight.”
“I won’t.”
They talked about small things for twenty minutes—the weather, a neighbor’s noisy dog, a book Lily had mentioned. Then a nurse came in with a tray and Emma stood to leave.
In the hallway she checked her bank balance on her phone. The number was lower than she liked to see. Rent was due in nine days. The hospital payment in twelve. Lily’s next tuition installment in three weeks.
She took the bus home.
Lily had left a note on the table: Gone to library. Back by 4. There’s soup.
Emma heated the soup and forced herself to eat half of it. Then she opened her laptop and started searching for other catering companies, restaurant openings, anything with evening shifts that paid cash or weekly.
Most of the listings wanted experience she already had, but also references from the last six months. Apex was her only reference for high-end work.
Her phone buzzed again. Another unknown number.
She almost ignored it. Then she answered.
“Miss Carter?”
A different voice this time. Male. Calm.
“Yes.”
“My name is Thomas Hale. I work for Vincent Moretti. Mr. Moretti would like to speak with you. Are you available this afternoon?”
Emma stared at the wall. “Why?”
“He did not specify details over the phone. He asked only that I extend the invitation. A car can pick you up if that is convenient, or you may meet at a location of your choosing.”
Emma’s first instinct was to refuse. The second was to ask how much a conversation like that was worth. The third was to remember the way Isabella Moretti had trembled.
“I’ll meet him,” she said. “Somewhere public. Not a private office.”
“Understood. There is a coffee shop on Dearborn, two blocks from the Art Institute. Two o’clock. Does that work?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll confirm with Mr. Moretti. Thank you, Miss Carter.”
The line went dead.
Emma sat very still. Then she texted Lily.
Something came up. Meeting someone at 2. Don’t worry.
Lily replied almost immediately: Who?
Emma: Long story. Tell you later.
She changed into the only clean blouse she owned that did not look like a uniform, and left early.
The coffee shop was half full. Emma chose a table near the window where she could see the door. She ordered a black coffee she did not particularly want and waited.
At 1:58 a black sedan pulled up. Vincent Moretti stepped out without waiting for the driver. He wore a dark coat over a suit that looked ordinary until you noticed the cut. He scanned the room once, found her, and walked over.
He did not smile.
“Miss Carter. Thank you for coming.”
“Mr. Moretti.”
He sat across from her. A server appeared immediately. Vincent ordered water. Nothing else.
When the server left, he said, “My mother asked about you this morning.”
Emma’s hands tightened around the cup. “Is she all right?”
“She is home. The incident unsettled her more than she admitted last night. She wanted to know the name of the young woman who stopped Victoria.”
Emma looked down at the table. “I didn’t know who she was.”
“I know.” Vincent’s voice stayed even. “If you had known, would you have done the same thing?”
Emma thought about it. “Yes.”
Something in his expression shifted, almost like approval, but it was gone quickly.
“Victoria Langford is not finished,” he said. “She has already made calls. Some of them reached people who do business with companies I own. Others reached the catering firm that employs you.”
“I know. I’m suspended.”
Vincent nodded once, as if that confirmed something he already expected. “I can make the suspension go away.”
Emma looked up. “No.”
He waited.
“I don’t want favors,” she said. “If I keep the job because someone powerful made a call, then the next time someone like Victoria complains, they’ll remember I only kept it because of you. And if you change your mind later, I’m back where I started.”
Vincent studied her for a long moment.
“That is a practical answer,” he said.
“It’s the only one that makes sense.”
He took a sip of water. “Then I will not make the call. But I will do this: if Apex terminates you, or if other firms refuse to hire you because of this, you may contact Thomas. He will provide a reference that does not involve my name. It will simply confirm that you acted to prevent harm to an elderly guest and that the complaint was disproportionate.”
Emma considered that. “Why?”
“Because my mother is alive and unharmed because of you. And because Victoria does not get to decide who works in this city.”
The words were quiet, but they carried weight.
Emma nodded slowly. “Thank you.”
Vincent stood. He left a twenty on the table for the coffee she had barely touched.
“If you change your mind about the suspension,” he said, “the offer remains open for forty-eight hours.”
He walked out. The sedan pulled away.
Emma sat alone with the cooling coffee and the knowledge that she had just refused help from one of the most powerful men in Chicago.
May you like
She finished the coffee anyway, because wasting it felt stupid, and then she went home to keep looking for jobs.
