Chapter 4 - The Morning After
The smell of fresh coffee woke Lucas at seven thirty.
He opened his eyes, feeling a sharp knot in his lower back from sleeping upright in the armchair. The room was illuminated by bright, pale morning light streaming through the parted drapes.
Anna stood near the kitchenette counter in the corner of the suite, quietly pouring hot water into a cup. She had changed out of her uniform into a pair of faded jeans and an oversized grey sweater.
The twins were awake.
They were sitting side-by-side on the plush rug near the window, quietly playing with a pair of plastic hotel tea cups Anna must have scavenged from the service cart. They didn't yell or run; they spoke in hushed, practiced whispers, as if they had spent their entire little lives learning how to be invisible.
Anna turned around, saw Lucas awake, and nearly dropped the coffee mug.
"Mr. Martin," she whispered, her cheeks flushing red. "I'm sorry. I tried not to wake you. I made some coffee from the machine—I can pay for the pod—"
"Stop," Lucas said, his voice raspy from sleep. He rubbed his face with both hands, sitting up straight. "Stop offering to pay for things."
He looked over at the children. Sophia was staring at him with large, curious blue eyes, her golden hair tied back in two uneven pigtails. Samuel gave him a tiny, shy wave, pointing to the armchair.
"You gave Peanut back," Samuel announced solemnly.
"I did," Lucas said, adjusting his cuffs. "He rested well."
Anna looked between her son and the formidable billionaire sitting in her room, her mouth opening slightly in surprise. "Sammy talked to you?"
"He had concerns about monsters," Lucas said, standing up and smoothing down his trousers. "We resolved them."
Before Anna could answer, the suite's front door chimed with a polite, double knock.
Anna gasped, her face draining of color instantly. She scrambled toward the children, gathering them into her arms like a mother hen protecting her chicks. "Is that security? Did someone report us?"
"Stay here," Lucas commanded firmly.
He walked to the door and pulled it open.
Standing in the hallway was Marcus, his sharp-eyed personal assistant, holding two large paper bags from an upscale breakfast bakery down the street, along with a stack of leather-bound folders.
Marcus didn't even blink when he saw Lucas in rumpled clothes. "Good morning, Mr. Martin. I brought the financial reports for the board meeting at ten, as requested. I also took the liberty of purchasing breakfast items—high-protein pastries, fresh fruit, milk, and orange juice."
Lucas took the bags. "Thank you, Marcus."
Marcus looked past Lucas's shoulder into the room, taking in the sight of the young housekeeper sitting on the floor, holding two terrified toddlers. His expression remained completely neutral—a testament to his ten years of working for Lucas.
"I also took the liberty of looking into the tenant eviction records for the borough of Manhattan from yesterday morning," Marcus added in a low, professional tone. "The building at 414 East 73rd Street was acquired by Vanguard Capital Holdings. The eviction notice served to Miss Silva was illegal; the new owners failed to provide the mandatory thirty-day statutory window under city housing laws."
Lucas’s eyes darkened. "Vanguard Capital? That's Richard Vance's group."
"Yes, sir," Marcus confirmed. "Mr. Vance is, incidentally, sitting on your board of directors meeting this morning at ten."
Lucas let out a cold, sharp laugh that held no humor at all. "Is he?"
"Shall I inform legal?" Marcus asked smoothly.
"No," Lucas said, his eyes narrowing into slits of pure steel. "I'll handle Richard myself. In the meantime, Marcus, I want a private car waiting downstairs. I want Miss Silva and her children moved to the executive residence at the Westside Tower immediately."
Anna came running toward the door, her hands clutched together. "No! Mr. Martin, please! That's too much! We can't go to an executive residence!"
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Lucas turned to her, his voice absolute and unyielding. "Miss Silva, a director on my board broke the law to throw you and your children into the street so he could demolish a building for a parking garage. You work for my company. I do not allow my employees to be trampled by men like Richard Vance."
He handed the breakfast bags to her. "Eat your breakfast. Marcus will take care of your bags. We will speak again after my meeting."
