Chapter 4 - THE HOSPITAL WING AT DAWN
The predawn light over Chicago was the color of a bruised plum.
Sophie sat in the visitor’s chair of St. Vincent’s Hospital, the heavy envelope from Christian Callahan resting on her lap like a brick of solid gold.
Across the narrow hospital bed, her mother, Martha, slept peacefully, her breathing steady and deep for the first time in six months.
The intravenous pole dripped clear saline into her arm.
The monitor beside her beeped in a slow, reassuring rhythm.
Earlier that morning, a team of senior specialists had walked into the room, reviewed her mother’s failing charts, and announced that all treatments, surgeries, and post-op care had been fully prepaid by an anonymous corporate benefactor.
Sophie knew who the benefactor was.
Men like Christian Callahan didn't give away fortunes out of charity.
They paid their debts.
And by exposing Vivian Croft, Sophie had accidentally become the most valuable asset in the entire Callahan organization.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out. An unknown number.
She swiped the screen and pressed it to her ear.
"Sophie Miller?"
A deep, gravelly voice. Not Christian’s—someone older. Abel, the household manager who oversaw the Callahan estate.
"Yes," Sophie said, sitting up straighter.
"Mr. Callahan requires your presence at the estate this evening at seven," Abel said, his tone leaving no room for debate. "A car will be waiting downstairs by the main entrance in ten minutes."
"My mother is still—"
"Your mother’s medical team has been upgraded to a private VIP suite with round-the-clock nursing," Abel interrupted smoothly. "She is in good hands. Be downstairs, Miss Miller."
The line went dead.
Sophie looked down at her simple cotton blouse and worn sneakers.
She didn't own a dress fit for a mafia estate.
She didn't know what a girl from the south side was supposed to say to a man who ruled half the Midwest with an iron fist.
May you like
But as she looked over at her sleeping mother, she knew she had no choice.
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