"My mother worked seventy-seven days without being paid while her boss flaunted a new Porsche and begged her to wait “one more week.” So I slipped away at lunch, walked past seven armed men, and asked the most dangerous man in Chicago why nobody had made David Sterling pay her.

Five minutes later, David Sterling returned to the dining room escorted by Leo. His hands were trembling so violently he nearly dropped the thick stack of hundred-dollar bills he held.

Sarah stood near Vincent’s table, still holding Rory tight against her chest. She looked bewildered, caught in a surreal nightmare turned upside down. Never in her life had anyone stood up for her like this. After her husband had passed away two years ago, leaving her with hospital debts and a young daughter, Sarah had learned to expect life to be an endless series of closed doors and cold shoulders.

Vincent pointed to the table. "Put it down."

Sterling placed the stack of cash on the white tablecloth.

Vincent turned to Sarah. "Mrs. Carter, please count it."

Sarah took a hesitant step forward, setting Rory down on a soft booth chair beside her. Her fingers shook as she picked up the cash, counting the fifty-dollar and hundred-dollar bills. Ten thousand... eleven thousand.

"It’s... it’s all here," Sarah whispered, tears flooding her eyes. She looked at Sterling, then at the cash, unable to process that eleven weeks of agony, sleepless nights, and humiliation had been resolved in less than fifteen minutes.

"Good," Vincent said. He looked at Sterling. "Now, you are going to apologize to Mrs. Carter and her daughter."

Sterling swallowed his pride—or what was left of it. He looked at Sarah, refusing to make eye contact with Rory. "I'm... I'm sorry, Sarah. It was wrong of me."

"Look at the girl," Vincent commanded sharply.

Sterling flinched. He dropped to one knee, looking directly at four-and-a-half-year-old Rory. "I'm sorry, Rory."

Rory looked at him with big, clear blue eyes. She didn't look angry; she looked thoughtful. "You shouldn't lie about groceries," she said simply. "Groceries are important."

A faint, rare smile flickered across Vincent Kane’s lips before vanishing just as quickly.

"Mr. Sterling," Vincent said, turning back to the restaurant owner. "Mrs. Carter is resigned from your employment, effective immediately. If I hear that you have spoken ill of her, attempted to contact her, or given her a poor reference to any prospective employer in the city of Chicago, we will have another conversation. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mr. Kane. Completely," Sterling stammered, wiping his brow.

"Get out of my sight."

Sterling practically sprinted toward his back office, closing the door behind him.

Vincent turned his full attention to Sarah and Rory. The atmosphere in the dining room relaxed slightly, though the patrons still kept their voices to hushed whispers.

"Mrs. Carter," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a respectful tone. "My car is outside. My driver will take you and your daughter to your home."

"Oh, no, sir, you’ve done far too much already!" Sarah protested quickly, holding the stack of money against her chest. "I can take the bus—"

"The bus is no place to carry eleven thousand dollars in cash," Vincent said neutrally. "Leo will accompany you to ensure you reach your home safely and deposit those funds into your bank account."

Sarah looked at Vincent, seeing the absolute sincerity behind his stern demeanor. She realized this man didn't act out of cruelty; he acted out of an unshakeable, rigid sense of order. In his world, debts were paid, bullies were punished, and children were fed.

"Thank you," Sarah whispered, her voice breaking with overwhelming emotion. "I don't know how I can ever repay you, Mr. Kane."

Vincent looked down at Rory, who was watching him with absolute fascination.

"Your daughter already paid me," Vincent said quietly. "She had the courage to walk past seven armed men to deliver a message. That kind of bravery is rare in this city."