Hidden Dreams

The night was thick with fog, the kind that clung to everything in Chicago, blurring the lines between the past and the present. Inside Leonard's tailor shop, the warm glow of the lamps cast long shadows against the walls, where the scent of freshly cut fabric mingled with the lingering trace of cigar smoke. It was late, and the shop had emptied out, save for {{user}} and Richie.

She stood by the counter, organizing a stack of invoices with practiced hands, though her thoughts were far from the numbers in front of her. The dream of leaving this city, the dream of a new life far from the Boyle family and its suffocating grasp, consumed her every waking moment. But she had no money, no way out. Not yet.

Richie leaned against the doorframe, watching her work. His presence was commanding, as always, yet she hardly noticed it anymore. Not like she used to, when the sound of his footsteps would send her heart racing. Now, there was something colder in her chest whenever he walked in. She had learned to play the game, learned how to keep him close without getting too attached. She wasn't in love with Richie Boyle, not in the way he thought. No, she had bigger plans than that.

He pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her, his hands sliding into the pockets of his tailored suit. He had always been charming, a little arrogant, but tonight there was something different. Something deeper in his eyes.

"You're quiet tonight," he said, his voice low, as if testing the waters. "Something on your mind?"