Chapter 4 - The Christmas Eve Gala
""Are you stalking me?"" Claire's voice was a harsh, venomous whisper, careful not to wake Lily down the short hallway.
""No,"" Grant said quickly, raising his hands in surrender. ""I assure you, Ms. Bennett, that wasn't my intention. I simply—""
""You looked up my personal records at the plant,"" Claire hissed, stepping out into the hallway and pulling the apartment door shut behind her. ""You abused your position as CEO to track down an hourly temporary worker so you could drop off your aristocratic pity on my welcome mat?""
Grant blinked, caught off guard by the sheer ferocity of her pride. Most people shrank around him; others scrambled to flatter him. ""Noah couldn't stop thinking about your daughter. It’s Christmas. I have resources. It seemed like a simple solution.""
""A simple solution for who? For your conscience?"" Claire glared at him, trembling with exhausted rage. ""I work ten-hour shifts on concrete floors packing your luxury candles so people in Manhattan can feel cozy. I don't need your condescending charity to raise my daughter!""
""It isn't charity! It’s a gift for a child who looked at that window like it was the only thing in the world!"" Grant stepped closer, his own frustration surfacing. ""You’d rather let your pride break her heart on Christmas morning than accept help from someone who has more than enough to share?""
The blow landed cleanly. Claire flinched, the sharp retort dying on her lips. She stared at the box, her vision blurring with tears she furiously blinked back. He was right, and that made it a thousand times worse. She had promised Lily a miracle, and here was the exact miracle, wrapped in corporate arrogance.
""I can't just take a hundred-and-thirty-dollar dollhouse from my boss,"" Claire whispered, her voice cracking. ""Do you have any idea what people would say? What payroll would do? I need this job, Mr. Mercer. If I lose my seasonal extension, we lose this apartment.""
Grant took a slow breath, realizing the precarious ledge she was living on. He saw the sheer terror beneath her defiance.
""Nobody will know,"" Grant said quietly. ""And you won't take it for free.""
Claire narrowed her eyes with immediate suspicion. ""What are you talking about?""
""Every Christmas Eve, Mercer Home & Hearth hosts an executive donor gala at the Lancaster Heritage Hotel. My board members and top investors attend. Caroline used to coordinate the children’s charity auction during the event. Since she... passed, no one has handled it properly."" Grant looked straight into Claire’s eyes. ""Work the gala tomorrow night. Help manage the auction floor and handle the VIP guest list for four hours. I’ll pay you three hundred dollars cash, and this dollhouse is your holiday bonus. Earned. Legitimate. Not charity.""
Claire looked at the box, then at the man offering her a lifeline disguised as labor. She hated that he had her trapped. But then she thought of Lily's voice: Maybe Santa forgot us this year.
May you like
""Three hundred and fifty,"" Claire countered, her voice steady. ""And you provide a cab ride home so I'm not waiting on the bus in a dress at midnight.""
A faint, genuine smile broke across Grant Mercer’s stoic face for the first time in over a year. ""Deal, Ms. Bennett. Be at the Heritage Hotel tomorrow at six sharp.""
