Chapter 7 - The Valet Clearing
By Wednesday evening, the restaurant was operating at full capacity again. The jazz pianist was playing a low, lively rendition of a classic Gershwin tune, and the tables were filled with a diverse, vibrant mix of Chicago society—young tech executives from the West Loop sitting beside old-money families from Evanston and local school teachers celebrating an anniversary in the fireplace corner.
Emily stood near the service entrance, her eyes fixed on the front window where a black luxury sedan had just pulled up to the curb.
The driver—a sharp-faced young man named Leo who had been the head valet for Vanessa for two years—stepped out, his movements quick and slick as he took the keys from a regular guest.
"Leo," Emily said, stepping out onto the heated sidewalk into the crisp winter air.
Leo turned, his smile professional but his eyes completely cold. "Good evening, Director Parker. Beautiful crowd tonight. We’re already running out of spaces in the lower garage."
"The lower garage has forty empty stalls according to the digital registry, Leo," Emily said, holding the black notebook Moretti had given her. "And according to this ledger, you owe the house sixteen hundred dollars in unregistered cash fees from the last three weekends."
Leo’s smile vanished instantly. He looked at the notebook, his posture turning rigid under his heavy uniform jacket. "I don't know where you got that, Miss Parker. That looks like Vanessa’s personal notes. She was... confused about the numbers toward the end."
"She wasn't confused, Leo," Emily said calmly. "She was thorough. The arrangement you had with her is finished. Effective tonight, the valet service is being brought in-house under the Vance Capital payroll. You can submit your official tax forms to the human resources office tomorrow morning, or you can leave your uniform keys on the stand right now and find another street to run."
Leo looked around the dark boulevard, realizing that the network of protection Vanessa had built had completely dissolved into the winter air. He reached into his pocket, pulled out the heavy brass ring containing the valet keys, and dropped it into Emily’s open hand.
"You won't last six months here, Parker," he spat, turning his collar up against the wind. "This city doesn't like people who play clean."
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"The city doesn't care, Leo," Emily said, turning back toward the warm glass doors of the restaurant. "But the owner does."
As she stepped back into the glowing dining room, she saw Julian Vance sitting at a small table near the bar, a single glass of sparkling water in front of him. He had watched the entire exchange through the window. As their eyes met, he lifted his glass in a silent, respectful toast that made the cold air outside vanish from her thoughts completely.
