Chapter 5 - Dawn of the Empire
The morning sun broke over Boston Harbor like a jagged shard of gold, piercing through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Unit 402 and casting long, sharp shadows across the penthouse.
I woke up curled in a velvet armchair, a heavy cashmere blanket draped over my shoulders—a blanket I certainly hadn't put there myself.
Across the room, the kitchen island was surrounded by the quiet hum of activity.
Daniel was standing at the counter. He had changed into a fresh black dress shirt and dark trousers, though a bandage bulged beneath the fabric over his ribs. He was holding a baby bottle in one hand, warming formula with practiced, effortless precision, while cradling one of the twins against his shoulder.
The other twin was resting happily in a high-tech automated bouncer that had apparently materialized out of nowhere overnight.
I rubbed my eyes, standing up stiffly. "You should be in a hospital."
"Hospitals are filled with Marcus's payroll," Daniel said without looking up, his deep voice smooth and steady. He fed the baby with a gentle, practiced rhythm. "Besides, I don't have time to bleed. My father’s board of directors convenes in four hours. If I'm not sitting at the head of the mahogany table, Sterling-Vane Industries officially passes into Marcus’s hands—and these children are declared legal orphans of a deceased, disgraced fugitive."
I walked over to the kitchen island, leaning against the marble counter. "And what does that have to do with me? I'm just a waitress from Ali’s Diner. I should go back before someone reports me missing."
Daniel paused, setting the bottle down, and turned his piercing blue eyes toward me.
"Yesterday, you walked past seven armed men, knocked out the head of my corporate security with a steel rolling pin, and dragged a bleeding billionaire through a hurricane," Daniel said, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "You aren't a waitress, Anna. You're the most dangerous woman in Boston right now."
Before I could retort, a sharp, rhythmic chiming echoed from the private elevator.
Daniel’s expression instantly hardened into carved granite.
"Hide," he commanded, gesturing toward the master suite hallway.
May you like
"Who is it?" I whispered, my heart leaping into my throat.
"My lawyer," Daniel said grimly, his hand sliding inside his jacket to grip the handle of a sleek, matte-black pistol resting in a shoulder holster. "And hopefully, the only man in this city who hasn't been bought off yet."
