Chapter 3 - Seven Days to Leave
Grace stormed into my study that afternoon.
“You knew?”
“About the sale? No.”
She dropped the demolition notice onto my desk.
“Families have seven days.”
“I've already contacted the buyer.”
“And?”
“They won't negotiate.”
“Everyone negotiates with you.”
“Apparently not everyone.”
Grace paced.
“Where are those families supposed to go?”
“We'll relocate them.”
“To shelters?”
“Temporary apartments.”
She stopped.
“Paid for by you?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I leaned back.
“You're remarkably difficult to help.”
“Because I don't want twenty children becoming another Ashford property.”
That hit harder than she intended.
“My family doesn't own people.”
“You own half this neighborhood.”
“I own buildings.”
“And people are afraid of you.”
I stood.
“Fear keeps certain people from hurting the ones under my protection.”
Grace stared at me.
“There. That's the problem.”
“What?”
“You think everyone needs to be under your protection.”
“And you think feeding twenty children alone makes you independent?”
Silence.
Then Grace said quietly:
“I was one of them.”
My anger disappeared.
She looked toward the window.
“My mother died when I was eleven. My father disappeared before that. I spent four years moving through homes where adults kept telling me I should be grateful.”
“Grace—”
“I promised myself if I ever saw a hungry child, I wouldn't ask for paperwork first.”
I walked around the desk.
“You should have told me.”
“Why?”
“Because I would have understood.”
She looked at me.
“Would you?”
I didn't answer quickly enough.
She gave a small nod.
“Exactly.”
Then my phone rang.
My attorney.
I answered.
“What?”
“The development company isn't independent.”
I looked at Grace.
“Who controls it?”
A pause.
“Sebastian Vale.”
That changed everything.
Grace noticed.
“Who is Sebastian?”
“Someone trying to start a war.”
Sebastian Vale had spent years attempting to move into territory controlled by my organization.
He couldn't attack me openly.
But buying a building connected to people I had suddenly begun protecting?
That wasn't coincidence.
That evening, Sebastian called.
“Nathaniel.”
“What do you want?”
“I heard you've developed a charitable streak.”
“Leave the building alone.”
He laughed.
“Now I'm definitely demolishing it.”
Grace stood across the office listening.
“You want money?” I asked.
“I want something better.”
“What?”
“Your clubs along the Delaware waterfront.”
Grace shook her head immediately.
Sebastian continued.
“Transfer them to me, and your little neighborhood survives.”
“No.”
“Then seven days.”
He disconnected.
Grace stared at me.
“You can't give him your businesses.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Then what happens?”
I looked toward the city lights.
“We find another solution.”
But Grace stepped closer.
“No intimidation. No violence.”
“Grace.”
“Promise me.”
“You're asking the wrong man.”
“I'm asking the man who sat with those children last night.”
That silenced me.
I finally nodded.
“No violence.”
She held out her hand.
“What?”
“Shake on it.”
I stared at her hand.
Nobody had demanded a handshake from me since I was twelve.
I took it.
“Fine.”
She didn't release me immediately.
Neither did I.
Then my mother appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, wonderful.”
Grace pulled away.
Eleanor smiled.
“Should I come back after the wedding?”
“Mother.”
“What? I'm old. I need things to look forward to.”
Grace turned bright red and escaped toward the kitchen.
Eleanor watched her leave.
“You're in trouble.”
May you like
“Sebastian Vale is threatening twenty families.”
“I wasn't talking about Sebastian.”
