Chapter 6 - The Offer
The rain outside the Gary-Chicago regional airport was relentless.
In the quiet, darkened cabin of the grounded jet, emergency technicians and private mechanics were already inspecting the damaged left engine. Mateo had fallen asleep again from pure emotional exhaustion, resting his head on Khloe’s lap in the lounge area.
Silas stood by the open forward door, speaking in low, harsh tones to a group of five heavily armed men who had met the aircraft in armored SUVs.
“It wasn't a mechanical failure,” Victor reported, holding up a charred metal fragment. “Engine turbine blade sheared off due to sabotage at Teterboro. Someone wanted this plane down before we reached Chicago proper.”
Silas’s eyes turned into liquid fire. “Find out who cleared the maintenance line in New York. I want names by morning.”
“Yes, boss.” Victor bowed his head and stepped down the stairs into the rain.
Silas turned back toward the cabin. He walked down the carpeted aisle, his heavy footsteps silent, until he stood beside the lounge couch where Khloe sat gently stroking Mateo’s soft hair.
Khloe looked up, her blue eyes tired but peaceful. “He’s sleeping deeply now. The pressure in his ears has equalized.”
Silas sat on the edge of the low coffee table opposite her. He looked at his son, then raised his gaze to Khloe.
“You saved him tonight,” Silas said quietly. “Not just from the panic of the plane, but from... from me.”
“You love him, Mr. Costello,” Khloe said softly. “You just didn't know how to reach him. Love without communication feels like a cage to a child.”
Silas reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek leather wallet. He drew out a blank, heavy check with gold trim and laid it on the table between them.
“Name your price,” Silas said.
Khloe stared at the check, her brows furrowing in immediate offense. “Excuse me?”
“I want you to leave private aviation,” Silas said, his tone deadly serious. “I want you to come to my estate in Lake Forest. As Mateo’s full-time private governess and sign language instructor. You set your salary. One million, two million—whatever you want. You will have your own wing of the mansion, full security, and complete authority over his care.”
Khloe stared at him, stunned. “You think you can just buy me, Mr. Costello? You think because you have money you can just hire a person like a piece of equipment?”
“I am not trying to buy you,” Silas said, his voice dropping into a desperate, intense whisper as he leaned closer. “I am begging you. Look at him, Khloe. In two hours, you showed him more comfort than three teams of high-priced doctors have in three months. He trusts you. I... I need you.”
Khloe looked down at Mateo’s peaceful, sleeping face. She thought about her life—flying empty hours for arrogant billionaires, living in a small apartment in Newark, far from her sister. She thought about the dangerous world Silas inhabited, and the innocent boy stuck in the center of it.
“If I accept,” Khloe said slowly, her voice firm, “it won't be for your money, Mr. Costello. And I will have conditions.”
Silas’s dark eyes flashed with interest. “Name them.”
“First, no weapons around Mateo. Ever,” Khloe commanded, holding up a finger. “Second, you will take two hours of sign language lessons from me every single day. No excuses, no business calls, no mafia meetings. If you want me to teach your son, you will learn to speak to him yourself.”
May you like
Silas stared at her, amazed by her absolute bravery. No one spoke to him like this. No one made demands of Silas Costello.
A slow, rare smile touched his lips. “Agreed.”
