Everyone laughed when the obese janitor fell to her knees until Chicago’s most feared man kissed her hand

The Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel was a sea of tuxedos, glittering diamond necklaces, and loud champagne toasts.

Chicago’s medical elite, high-society donors, and city officials filled the room, their laughter echoing under the golden leaf ceilings. At the center of the high table sat Dr. Harrison Weber—fifty-eight years old, silver-haired, impeccably groomed, wearing an arrogant, practiced smile as colleagues lined up to shake his hand.

"Harrison, magnificent work on the new wing," a city councilman praised, clinking his glass against Weber’s. "You’re a true pillar of this city."

"Thank you, Arthur," Weber replied smoothly, adjusting his silk bow tie. "It’s all about serving the community. Excellence is not an act, it’s a habit."

At the edge of the room, standing near the heavy velvet curtains of the main entrance, Beatrice stood beside Dante.

She wore a breathtaking floor-length gown of deep emerald velvet, custom-designed to emphasize her tall stature and soft curves. Her dark hair was styled in an elegant updo, exposing the long line of her neck, where a simple diamond pendant hung against her pale skin. She looked regal, powerful, and utterly transformed.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like a trapped bird, but Dante’s hand was firm and warm against the small of her back.

"Nervous?" Dante asked softly, leaning down toward her ear.

"Terrified," Beatrice admitted, her eyes fixed on Weber's smiling face across the room. "Three years ago, I stood in a tiny hearing room while he looked me in the eye and lied under oath. Everyone believed him because he was the Chief of Surgery and I was just a nurse."

"They believed him because he had power," Dante corrected quietly. "Tonight, you have the power. And more importantly... you have me."

At that moment, the double doors of the ballroom swung open again, and a group of young executives pushed their way in, looking for the open bar.

Beatrice glanced over and froze.

Walking near the front of the group was Bradley Pierce, dressed in a wrinkled tuxedo, his face pale and his eyes bloodshot. Beside him was Chloe Hastings, looking nervous and out of place.

Bradley had clearly been drinking. After losing his job at Caldwell & Hughes forty-eight hours ago, he had been desperately trying to network with board members at the gala to secure a lifeline before his father's scandal completely wiped him out.

Bradley’s eyes swept across the room—and landed directly on Beatrice.

He blinked, taking a double take. He didn't recognize her at first in the emerald velvet gown, but as he looked closer at her face, his mouth dropped open in shock.

"What the..." Bradley muttered, stumbling slightly as he walked toward her. "Beatrice?"

Chloe caught up with him, her eyes widening in disbelief. "Is that... the janitor?"

Bradley let out a harsh, bitter laugh, powered by alcohol and humiliation. "Look at you! What, did you find a costume shop on your way out of the building? Whose dress did you steal, you fat—"

Before Bradley could finish the insult, Dante stepped out from behind the velvet curtain, moving into the light.

Bradley’s words choked in his throat. His knees actually buckled, and he grabbed the edge of a high-top table to keep from falling.

"P-Pierce," Bradley stammered, his face turning the color of ash. "I mean... Mr. Vance! Sir!"

Dante looked down at the young man with absolute disgust.

"You were instructed to leave the city, Bradley," Dante said, his voice dropping into a register that made the nearby guests glance over in surprise.

"I... I was just... Dr. Weber is a family friend!" Bradley stammered frantically. "I came to ask him for a recommendation!"

"You came to scavenge," Dante said coldly. "Arthur."

The scarred bodyguard materialized out of the shadows behind Bradley like a phantom.

"Take Mr. Pierce and Miss Hastings outside," Dante ordered calmly. "Ensure they are placed on a bus to Gary, Indiana. If either of them returns to Chicago before the end of the year... break their legs."

"No! Wait! Please!" Chloe shrieked as Arthur grabbed both of them by their arms, dragging them quietly toward the service exit behind the curtains before anyone in the main hall realized what was happening.

Beatrice watched them go, feeling a strange, quiet stillness take root in her mind. The monsters that had terrified her forty-eight hours ago were nothing compared to the man standing beside her.

"Are you ready?" Dante asked, holding out his arm.