Chapter 8 - The Lincoln Park Apartment and the First Night Without an Eviction Notice
The new apartment on the edge of Lincoln Park didn't feel real.
It had two spacious bedrooms, tall windows overlooking a quiet, tree-lined street, hardwood floors that didn't creak, and a modern thermostat on the wall that controlled the heat with a gentle, silent hum.
There was no groaning radiator.
There were no water stains on the ceiling.
And when Clara opened the refrigerator in the brand-new kitchen, it wasn't stocked with mustard, half a carton of eggs, and three yogurts—it was filled with fresh milk, organic fruit, artisan cheese, and neatly packaged meals prepared by Mrs. Gable’s own kitchen staff.
Mia immediately claimed the larger bedroom with the bay window, setting Mr. Buttons up on a brand-new toddler bed with a quilt that looked like it had been hand-stitched by someone who loved children.
"Mommy, look!" Mia squealed, bouncing up and down on the mattress. "There are no monsters under this bed! I checked!"
Clara stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame, watching her daughter laugh.
For three years, she had carried the crushing weight of inadequacy, believing that because she couldn't afford a better life, she was failing as a mother.
Now, sitting in a room she hadn't had to beg for, she felt a warm, unfamiliar sensation blooming in her chest.
Peace.
Her phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
She walked over and picked it up. A single text message from an unknown, encrypted number.
Apartment inspection satisfactory? — L.
Clara stared at the screen for a moment, a small, genuine smile touching her lips, before typing back a reply.
It's too much, Mr. Duca. But thank you.
May you like
A minute passed. Then the reply came.
It is the minimum baseline for my estate's staff. Get some sleep, Clara. You start early tomorrow.
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