Chapter 134
Chapter 134:
He didn’t move with his usual predatory grace. There was a stiffness to him, a slight hitch in his stride that he tried to conceal with rigid posture. He wore a dark charcoal suit, the jacket tailored to perfection, but his face was pale. The shadows under his eyes were bruises of exhaustion.
He didn’t say good morning. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat. The leather creaked.
Weston stepped forward from the hallway, placed a thick manila folder beside Eliza’s plate with a quiet thud, and withdrew without meeting her eyes.
Eliza stared at the folder. She didn’t touch it.
“Eat,” Dallas said softly, without looking at her. He picked up his fork and knife and sliced into his eggs with mechanical precision. The metal scraped against the china — a sharp sound that made her flinch. He brought a bite to his lips, forced himself to chew and swallow, and then a low, rattling cough escaped his chest before he could take another.
“What is this?” Eliza asked. Her voice was steady; her hands were not.
“Compensation,” Dallas said. He took another bite. It looked as though eating pained him.
Eliza opened the folder.
The first page was a legal document. Bold letters at the top read: DEED OF TRANSFER.
She scanned the lines. Her eyes widened.
𝖱𝘦а𝘥 𝗳𝗿𝗈𝗆 𝘺𝗈𝘶𝗿 p𝗁𝘰𝗇𝗲 𝗈𝗇
Property: The Gilded Lily Restaurant. 5th Avenue. Transferee: Eliza Solomon Koch.
She dropped the folder as if it had burned her. The Gilded Lily. The crown jewel of the Chapman retail group. Claudine Chapman’s personal pride — the place where she had held her high-society court, the place where she had sneered at Eliza a dozen times.
“I can’t accept this,” Eliza said, pushing the folder back toward him. “This property is worth millions. The real estate alone p>
“It’s the price of your fear,” Dallas said, his voice flat and devoid of warmth. “Claudine Chapman paid it. I took it as part of her family’s asset liquidation — collateral against a debt she could no longer afford p>
“I don’t want her restaurant. I don’t want her money,” Eliza said, her chest tightening. “I just want peace, Dallas. I want us to be normal p>
Dallas set down his fork. The metal clinked against the plate. He looked at her for the first time — his blue eyes dull and flat.
“You take it,” he said, “or I turn it into a parking lot by noon p>
Eliza stared at him. He wasn’t bluffing. He would bulldoze a historic building on 5th Avenue just to make a point. Just to prove he could.
“You’re a tyrant,” she whispered.
“I’m a businessman,” he corrected. He slid a heavy Montblanc pen across the marble. It spun and came to rest directly in front of her hand. “Sign p>
Eliza picked it up. She hated this. She hated owing him. She hated that his way of apologizing for the danger she had been in was to throw millions of dollars at her feet. It felt like another contract. Another chain.
She signed. Her signature was jagged, her hand trembling with frustration.
“Happy?” she asked, capping the pen with a snap.