Chapter 1 - The Price of One Saturday Night
Beatrice Gallagher had faced angry auditors, dishonest executives, and a landlord who believed repairing a broken heater was an optional act of kindness.
But nothing had prepared her for Arthur Costello offering to erase her brother's sixty-thousand-dollar debt in exchange for attending a wedding.
“Saturday evening,” Arthur repeated.
Beatrice stared at him across the polished conference table.
“You're telling me that if I put on a pretty dress, smile at your relatives, and pretend to enjoy your company, my brother gets to keep his kneecaps?”
Arthur's expression didn't change.
“Tommy keeps everything. His knees. His apartment. His future.”
“And what do you get?”
“A date who won't spend the evening calculating the value of my watch.”
She almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead, she folded her arms.
“Does blackmail normally work this well for you?”
“I'm not threatening your brother.”
“You're standing there explaining that you can save him from people who are.”
Arthur looked toward the windows.
For the first time since she'd entered his office, something uncomfortable crossed his face.
“You're right.”
That surprised her.
Men like Arthur Costello didn't usually admit when they were wrong.
He returned to the table, opened a drawer, and removed a white envelope.
Inside was a signed document.
Beatrice scanned the first page.
Her breath caught.
The sixty-thousand-dollar obligation had already been purchased from the O'Malley crew.
By Arthur.
That morning.
Three hours before he'd invited her to the wedding.
“You bought Tommy's debt before asking me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the O'Malleys were going to collect it tonight.”
Her fingers tightened around the paper.
Arthur continued quietly.
“Whether you attend the wedding or not, your brother is safe. His obligation is canceled.”
Beatrice looked up.
“Then why make the offer?”
“Because I wanted to know whether you'd come if I asked.”
A strange silence settled between them.
He reached for his coat.
“I'll send a car Saturday at six. If you're not interested, tell the driver to leave.”
“And if I do come?”
His mouth curved slightly.
“Then Chicago's most boring wedding may become considerably more interesting.”
He left before she could respond.
Beatrice stood alone, holding the canceled debt.
She should have felt relieved.
Instead, she felt watched.
That evening, a photograph arrived on her phone from an unknown number.
It showed Tommy leaving his apartment.
Underneath were six words.
YOUR BOSS DIDN'T BUY HIS DEBT.
A second message appeared.
HE BOUGHT HIS SILENCE.
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And attached beneath it was a photograph of Arthur standing beside Beatrice's father.
A father who had supposedly died eighteen years earlier.
