Chapter 1 - THE WAITRESS WHO HEARD TOO MUCH
“No one listens to women who serve coffee.”
Marco Voss said those words with such confidence that I almost believed him.
Almost.
I stood frozen behind a shelf of clean linens in the Maragold Room, clutching a stack of napkins against my chest while three men calmly discussed murdering Chicago's most dangerous mafia boss.
Jack Moretti.
The man who had looked at my trembling world and called my hands steady.
And now, less than twenty feet away, his own brother was planning to kill him.
“Twenty seconds after the signature,” Victor Hail whispered. “That's when I trigger the alarm?”
“Exactly,” Marco answered. “Jack takes the east corridor. Rocco gets trapped at the main stair. Our men handle the rest.”
“And the waitress?” Victor asked again.
Marco laughed softly.
“She's nobody.”
My stomach tightened.
I'd spent years hearing that word.
Nobody.
My ex-husband Ethan had called me nobody when I gained weight after giving birth. He'd called me ugly when the accident left scars across my stomach and shoulder. He'd called me worthless when I finally found the courage to leave him.
But there was one thing Ethan had never understood.
Women who survive monsters learn how monsters think.
I slowly reached into my apron pocket and pressed the recording button on my phone.
Then a floorboard creaked beneath my broken shoe.
The conversation stopped.
“Who's there?” Victor demanded.
I grabbed the napkins and stepped into the corridor before anyone could investigate.
“Reserve linens,” I said, lifting the stack.
Victor stared at me.
His face lost its color.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to find the napkins you asked for.”
Marco emerged behind him.
His eyes examined my face.
Then my apron.
Then my hands.
“What's your name, sweetheart?”
“Lily Bennett.”
Something changed in his expression.
Not recognition.
Calculation.
He stepped closer.
“Lily, there's something you should understand about this restaurant.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze.
“What's that?”
“People who hear things they shouldn't usually regret it.”
I smiled faintly.
“Then it's fortunate I was only looking for napkins.”
He studied me another second before stepping aside.
I walked back into the private dining room with my pulse pounding.
Jack sat at the head of the table.
The silver signing pen rested beside his right hand.
I had perhaps thirty seconds to save him.
I approached with the coffee pot.
“Fresh coffee, Mr. Moretti?”
Jack glanced up.
“Yes.”
I leaned forward to pour.
Then deliberately tilted the pot.
Hot coffee splashed across the contract.
Victor shouted.
The lawyers jumped from their seats.
Jack didn't move.
He simply looked at me.
I bent toward him, pretending to apologize.
And whispered six words.
“Your brother plans to kill you.”
Jack's expression remained perfectly calm.
But beneath the table, his hand closed around my wrist.
“Which brother?” he whispered.
“Marco.”
For the first time, something dangerous flickered in his eyes.
May you like
Then he quietly said something that made my blood run cold.
“I buried Marco three years ago.”
