Chapter 3 - The Hunger Tax
"Do you know what happens to the human body after three days without food, Julian?" Gabriel asked, his voice steady as a surgeon's scalpel.
Sterling stared wide-eyed at the blade embedded in the table. Sweat beaded on his hairline, dripping down into his tailored collar. "Gabriel, please... we do business together. I run your shipping lines through the western terminal!"
"Your stomach begins to digest its own lining," Gabriel continued, ignoring him. "Your vision blurs. Your fingers shake. But you keep pushing the mop because if you drop it, the landlord puts your little girl out on the winter pavement."
Mia sat quietly, watching. She wasn't terrified; she looked at Gabriel with the absolute, unquestioning faith that children give only to fathers or protectors.
"How much did your steak cost tonight?" Gabriel asked.
"Two... two hundred dollars," Sterling stammered, trembling so violently his knees buckled.
"Two hundred," Gabriel nodded. He turned to Marco. "Take him down to the meat locker in the basement. Strip his jacket and shoes. Lock the heavy door."
"Wait! No! You can't do this!" Sterling screamed, struggling as Marco and another guard clamped iron grips on his arms. "Gabriel! I have meetings! The Mayor is attending my charity ball on Friday!"
"You will stay in the cold until you have spent seventy-seven minutes alone in the dark," Gabriel said calmly. "One minute for every day Elena went without a meal. If you survive the frost without crying like an animal, I will allow you to buy back your life."
"You're insane! You're throwing away a million-dollar partnership for a maid!" Sterling shrieked as he was dragged toward the double doors, his leather shoes skidding against the floor.
"Elena cleans my offices too, Julian," Gabriel said before the doors closed. "She makes sure the dust doesn't touch my father's portrait. To me, her dignity is worth ten of your ships."
The heavy oak doors slammed shut, cutting off Sterling's desperate pleas.
The boardroom fell into absolute silence again. Gabriel looked at Mia. The little girl had finished her grapes and was looking down at the heavy platinum watch on the table.
"Is that for Mommy?" she asked.
May you like
"That is Mommy's overtime," Gabriel replied gently, unsheathing the knife from the table and tucking it away. "Now, little one, take me to her. Let's see why she let you come to the wolf's den alone."
Mia reached out her arms, and Gabriel, the man who had ordered three executions before lunch, carefully lifted the small child into his arms. But when Mia's cardigan shifted, Gabriel saw dark purple bruises circling the girl's small wrist.
