Chapter 3
Nora pulled the heavy leather wheelchair from the walk-in closet, her hands shaking as she unfolded it beside the bed. She helped Walter carefully shift his weight from the mattress into the chair. She then took a thick, dark wool lap blanket from the foot of the bed and folded it neatly, covering Walter’s lower body to afford him as much dignity as possible.
"Thank you, Nora," Walter murmured, adjusting his suit jacket. "You are a good girl. Too good for a house like this."
"I just want to help you, sir," Nora replied, gripping the rubber handles of the wheelchair. Her knuckles turned white.
"I will push!" Poppy declared, rushing around to the back of the chair and placing her tiny hands on the metal frame beside Nora's.
"You can be my navigator, little bird," Walter smiled, though the anger in his eyes remained sharp and lethal. "Let's go ruin a dinner party."
Nora pushed the wheelchair out of the suite and down the long, dimly lit corridor. The festive sounds of the string quartet and the booming laughter of the mafia capos grew louder with every step. Her fitted black maid dress swished around her legs, her breath catching in her throat as they approached the service doors leading to the grand salon.
"Nora, what do you think you are doing?" a harsh whisper cut through the air.
The head butler stepped out from the pantry, physically blocking the hallway. He looked at the wheelchair in horror.
"Mr. Rowe wishes to join his family for Thanksgiving dinner," Nora stated, trying to keep her voice steady despite the terrifying authority of the senior staff member.
"Miss Reed explicitly told the boss that his father was too weak to attend," the butler hissed, his eyes darting nervously toward the salon doors. "If you wheel him in there and expose her lie, she will have your head, Nora. Turn around. Now."
"Step aside, Thomas," Walter commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that echoed his son's terrifying authority.
"Sir, please," the butler pleaded, sweating profusely. "She runs the household staff now. She will destroy this girl's life if she disobeys."
"If you do not step aside," Walter said with absolute, unyielding coldness, "I will have Dante remove you from this estate in pieces. Open the doors."
The butler swallowed hard, realizing he was caught between a treacherous fiancée and the foundational patriarch of the syndicate. With trembling hands, he reached out and pushed the heavy double doors open.
The cascading, warm golden light of the tiered crystal chandeliers poured into the dark hallway. The rich scent of roasted turkey and autumn spices washed over them.
"Stay close to me, Poppy," Nora whispered, her expressive eyes wide with terror as she pushed the wheelchair forward.
May you like
"I'm steering!" Poppy giggled, entirely oblivious to the lethal politics she was walking into.
Nora took a deep breath, her slightly rumpled white apron catching the amber illumination, and wheeled the former mafia boss out into the crowded Thanksgiving reception.
