Chapter 2 - The Worth of an Hour
Julian Sterling was shoved into the room, stumbling on the polished parquet floor. He smoothed the lapels of his midnight-blue velvet dinner jacket, his face flushed red with expensive wine and indignation.
"Gabriel, what is the meaning of this?" Sterling sputtered, waving a hand toward Marco. "I’m dining with Senator Hayes' chief of staff! You can't just drag me—"
His voice died in his throat as his eyes landed on Mia sitting quietly on the corner of the polished table, chewing a single black grape. Sterling’s expression shifted instantly from arrogance to irritation.
"What is that brat doing in here?" Sterling scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Security at this club has gone to hell. Her mother is some junkie cleaner who won't stop harassing my accounting staff. I already fired the woman this morning."
Gabriel didn't move. He remained seated, his hands folded loosely over the crumpled slip of paper.
"She is not a junkie, Julian," Gabriel said, each syllable measured and low. "Her name is Elena Miller. And according to this ledger, you owe her five thousand, four hundred and thirty dollars and thirty cents."
Sterling let out a sharp, incredulous bark of laughter. "Are you serious? You interrupted my dinner over petty cash? Gabriel, she missed clocked hours! Her daughter was sick, she left early three times, and company policy explicitly states—"
"Company policy," Gabriel repeated quietly.
"Yes! Corporate bylaws. She didn't fulfill the standard shift agreements. I had the legal department withhold her disbursements." Sterling stepped toward the table, adjusting his cufflinks, trying to regain his stature. "It’s standard corporate restructuring. The cleaning contract was voided. She doesn’t get a dime. She doesn't need it anyway; people like that waste money on—"
A crack echoed through the boardroom like a gunshot.
Gabriel hadn't raised his voice, but his signet ring had slammed down onto the mahogany wood, splitting the veneer beneath it. Sterling froze, all color draining from his face.
"She gave her food to her child," Gabriel said, leaning forward. His eyes, dark and predatory, locked onto Sterling’s trembling pupils. "For seventy-seven days, she scrubbed your floors on an empty stomach while you wrote company policies."
Sterling swallowed hard. "Gabriel... look, if this is a personal charity case of yours, I can cut a check tomorrow morning—"
"No," Gabriel interrupted. "You misunderstand. You won't be writing a check tomorrow. Marco, take his watch."
Marco stepped behind Sterling, twisting the CEO's wrist until bone groaned, unbuckling the sixty-thousand-dollar platinum Patek Philippe.
"That's mine!" Sterling gasped in pain.
Gabriel took the watch, inspected the diamonds set into its bezel, and laid it directly next to Mia’s crumpled paper.
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"This covers her five thousand," Gabriel said. "Now, let’s talk about the seventy-seven days of starvation."
Before Sterling could scream, Gabriel reached inside his jacket, pulled a heavy steel utility knife from his waistband, and planted it blade-deep into the wood, two inches from Sterling's hand.
