Chapter 1 - The Child Upstairs
The first rule of working nights inside Callahan Tower was simple: never give Roman Callahan a reason to remember your name.
I had survived eleven months by following it.
At twenty-seven, I cleaned offices from ten at night until six in the morning, then rode the first train home to my eighteen-month-old daughter, Lily. The salary barely covered rent, groceries, and childcare, but barely was better than nothing.
Then Mrs. Donnelly slipped on black ice.
She was my neighbor, my babysitter, and the closest thing Lily and I had to family.
“I can’t put weight on my knee,” she apologized over the phone.
Missing work meant losing almost a quarter of that month’s rent.
So I broke the rule.
I brought Lily with me.
“Stay quiet for Mommy.”
I hid her in the staff room with crackers, cartoons, her pink blanket, and enough guilt to crush me.
For twenty minutes, everything worked.
Then I heard crying from the executive floor.
My blood turned cold.
I ran upstairs.
Roman Callahan’s office door stood partly open.
Everyone in Chicago knew his name. Business magazines called him an investor. Newspapers called him a suspected organized-crime figure whenever lawyers weren’t threatening them. Employees simply called him Mr. Callahan.
I expected screaming.
Instead, I stopped breathing.
Roman was asleep in his leather chair.
Lily was curled against his chest.
His expensive black jacket covered her tiny body, and one of her fists was wrapped around his white shirt collar.
Roman’s hand rested protectively across her back.
The most frightening man I had ever met was holding my daughter like she might break.
His eyes opened.
Instantly alert.
Instantly cold.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I’ll take her and leave.”
I reached forward.
His arm tightened around Lily.
“No.”
I froze.
Roman glanced toward the couch.
“Sit.”
I obeyed.
“She was crying,” he said.
“I know.”
“You hid a baby inside my building.”
“I couldn’t afford a babysitter.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You thought hiding her was safer than telling your supervisor?”
“I thought losing my job was worse.”
Something shifted in his expression.
“You need the money.”
“Yes.”
“And tomorrow?”
“I need the job tomorrow too.”
“You have one.”
I stared at him.
Then Lily shifted against his chest.
Her tiny fist tightened.
Roman looked down.
For the first time, the coldness left his face completely.
“My brother used to sleep like that.”
I almost smiled.
“What was his name?”
Roman’s thumb stopped moving against Lily’s back.
“Caleb.”
The room seemed to tilt.
May you like
I whispered:
“Lily’s father was named Caleb.”
