Chapter 4 - Shadows of the Past
Christmas Day passed in a blur of lonely luxury for James.
He spent the holiday in his sprawling penthouse overlooking Central Park, surrounded by quiet opulence that offered zero comfort. He spent hours staring out at the snow-covered trees, holding the little button-eyed teddy bear on his desk.
By Monday evening, James was back at the restaurant long before Grace’s scheduled shift.
He sat in his private office on the second floor, monitoring the building’s security feeds. At precisely 9:00 PM, the rear entrance camera clicked on. Grace walked in, holding her cleaning caddy.
She looked exhausted. Deep purple shadows bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and her movements were slower, heavier than usual. She was alone tonight; Chloe was nowhere to be seen.
James waited twenty minutes before walking downstairs. He kept the teddy bear in his coat pocket.
When he entered the main dining room, the sound of a vacuum cleaner drowned out his footsteps. Grace was working near the front entrance. James waited quietly until she clicked the machine off.
She turned around and gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Mr. Vance! I... I didn't realize you were still here."
"I told you, Grace, just James," he said calmly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the plush toy. "Chloe dropped this on Christmas Eve."
Grace’s face softened instantly, a brief flicker of genuine warmth breaking through her tired posture. "Oh, thank goodness. She’s been crying herself to sleep without Barnaby. Thank you."
She reached out to take it, but as her sleeve pulled back slightly, James caught sight of a nasty, dark purple bruise encircling her wrist.
James’s eyes narrowed instantly. "What happened to your arm?"
Grace pulled her sleeve down quickly, taking a defensive step back. "Nothing. I just... I bumped into a door frame at home."
"That’s not a mark from a door frame, Grace," James said, his voice dropping into a stern, protective register. "That’s a grip mark."
Grace swallowed hard, her eyes darting nervously toward the locked front windows of the restaurant. "It’s fine, really. I just need to get back to work."
"Where is Chloe tonight?" James pressed gently, step by step closing the distance between them. "You said you didn't have childcare."
"She’s with... with my landlord’s nephew," Grace stammered, her voice betraying her lies. "He offered to watch her for a few hours."
Before James could ask another question, the sudden, violent sound of someone kicking the restaurant’s rear service entrance echoed through the building.
BOOM. BOOM.
Grace went dead pale. The color drained from her face so fast James thought she might faint.
"He found me," she breathed in horror. "Oh God, he followed me here."
James moved with lightning speed, pulling Grace behind him toward his private office hallway. "Who is it, Grace?"
"My landlord, Marcus," Grace sobbed, panic completely overtaking her restraint. "He... he wants the back rent I owe. He told me if I didn't pay him by tonight, he was taking my apartment—and taking Chloe to child services! When I tried to push past him this morning, he grabbed me!"
CRACK.
The reinforced wooden back door yielded under a heavy crowbar blow, bursting open with a shower of splinters.
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A tall, heavy-set man in a filthy work jacket stepped into the service corridor, smelling strongly of stale alcohol and cheap tobacco. In his hand, he held a heavy steel crowbar.
"Grace!" the man roared, his bloodshot eyes scanning the dark hallway. "I know you're in here, you little deadbeat! Pay up or I swear to God you're sleeping on the street tonight!"
