Chapter 5 - Christmas Morning
I woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon rolls.
For a second, I thought I was still dreaming. I reached out, expecting to touch the thin, scratchy quilt of my studio mattress, but my hand brushed against silky 1,000-thread-count cotton instead.
I sat up abruptly.
The morning sun was pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows, turning the snow-covered Boston skyline into a blinding sheet of white and gold. The room was warm, filled with the gentle hum of the central heating unit.
"Mommy! Look!"
Chloe came running out of the living area, her face glowing with pure, unadulterated joy. She was wearing a plush white hotel bathrobe that dragged along the floor behind her like a royal train.
I swung my legs out of bed and rushed into the living room.
Sitting beneath the glowing Christmas tree in the corner was a massive stack of wrapped presents tied with gold silk ribbons. A room service cart stood near the window, loaded with silver platters of scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, french toast, fresh berries, and a tall carafe of hot coffee.
Standing near the door, holding a tablet, was Marco.
He had traded his tactical coat for a sharp suit jacket, though he still looked wildly out of place holding a shiny red gift bag.
"Good morning, Miss Bennett," Marco said with a stiff, professional nod.
"Marco?" I gasped, looking around the transformed room. "What... where did all this come from?"
"The boss had the hotel concierge open the retail shops downstairs at six this morning," Marco explained flatly. "He gave explicit orders that the young lady was to have a proper Christmas morning."
I fell back onto the sofa, covering my mouth with both hands. "I... I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything to me, miss," Marco said. He set his tablet on the counter and pointed toward the dining table. "There's a letter for you on the tray."
I walked over to the table with trembling knees. Beside the carafe of coffee lay a thick cream-colored envelope bearing a wax seal stamped with the letter M.
I broke the seal and pulled out a sheet of heavy parchment paper. The handwriting was dark, sharp, and precise:
Grace,
Enjoy the morning with your daughter. A driver will pick you both up at two o'clock afternoon to bring you to my estate in Marblehead for Christmas dinner. Do not attempt to refuse. My sister expects you.
Also, regarding your housing situation: 412 Hanover Street was condemned by the city building inspector at eight o'clock this morning due to severe structural and safety violations. The landlord has been fined, and his rental license has been suspended indefinitely.
You no longer live there.
Merry Christmas, James Moretti
I dropped the letter onto the table, my heart hammering against my ribs.
He had condemned the building. In four hours, James Moretti had completely erased my terrible apartment building off the map.
"He condemned my building?" I looked up at Marco in utter shock.
Marco gritted his teeth, suppressing a small smirk. "The boss doesn't like slum lords, Miss Bennett. Especially ones who turn off the heat on children."
"But where am I supposed to live now?" I cried out, panic rising in my throat. "My clothes! My things!"
"Your personal belongings have already been packed into boxes by a professional moving crew and placed into climate-controlled storage," Marco replied smoothly. "As for where you're going to live... I suggest you ask the boss at dinner tonight."
"Mommy, can I open this one?!" Chloe squealed from the floor, holding up a large box wrapped in shiny red paper.
I looked down at my daughter. Her cheeks were pink, her eyes were bright, and for the first time since her father walked out on us, she looked like a normal, happy child who wasn't burdened by the heavy weight of poverty.
May you like
I dropped to my knees beside her on the thick carpet and pulled her into a tight hug, burying my face in her hair as tears of overwhelming relief streamed down my face.
"Yes, baby," I sobbed softly, kissing her cheek. "Open whatever you want."
