Chapter 7 - The Maid Victor Couldn’t Send Away
Luca fired.
But not at Victor.
The bullet struck Salvatore's gun.
Victor tackled his father.
Hannah ran to Elena.
Luca joined Victor.
Security flooded the chapel.
Within seconds, Salvatore was surrounded.
The clock finished striking midnight.
Hannah was twenty-eight.
The trust became hers.
Salvatore stared at her.
“You think money makes you powerful?”
Hannah shook her head.
“No.”
She looked toward Mia.
“Having something worth protecting does.”
Salvatore was taken away.
But Victor knew his father's organization remained intact.
This wasn't over.
Back at the mansion, dawn approached.
Hannah sat beside Mia's bed.
The child slept.
Victor stood in the doorway.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I don't.”
“That explains your personality.”
Victor almost smiled.
“You're fired.”
Hannah stared.
“What?”
“You're not working as a maid anymore.”
“Victor—”
“You own half the company paying your salary.”
Hannah looked at her uniform.
For the first time, the absurdity struck her.
She laughed.
Victor did too.
It was brief.
But real.
Then Hannah grew serious.
“What happens now?”
“You decide.”
“I don't know how to run an empire.”
“Neither did I.”
“You were born into it.”
“So were you, apparently.”
Hannah looked toward Mia.
“I don't want this life.”
Victor understood.
“Then change it.”
“How?”
“That's the part nobody in this family has ever tried.”
Hannah considered those words.
The legitimate Romano businesses employed thousands.
Hotels.
Construction companies.
Shipping.
Real estate.
She could dismantle the criminal operations while preserving everything that ordinary families depended on.
Victor knew what she was thinking.
“If you do that, enemies will come.”
“They're already coming.”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe we stop giving them reasons.”
Victor studied her.
“You sound like Sofia.”
“Is that good?”
“Usually irritating.”
Hannah smiled.
Then Mia woke.
She reached for Hannah.
Victor watched.
No jealousy.
No fear.
Just relief.
Later that morning Hannah changed out of her maid uniform.
She expected to feel different.
She didn't.
Money hadn't changed the hospital bills she remembered counting.
It hadn't erased years of fear.
It hadn't restored the childhood Elena's secrets had stolen.
But it gave Hannah something she'd never possessed.
Choice.
At breakfast, the entire strange family assembled.
Victor.
Antonio.
Sofia.
Mia.
Elena.
Luca.
And Hannah.
Nobody knew how to behave.
Antonio finally said, “This might be the most uncomfortable breakfast in Chicago.”
Victor drank coffee.
“Eat.”
Sofia laughed.
Mia giggled.
Everyone stopped.
It was the first time Victor had heard that sound in two years.
Hannah smiled.
Then Mrs. Higgins entered.
“Mr. Romano.”
Victor looked up.
“A package arrived.”
“No deliveries.”
“There was no courier.”
Victor stood.
The package contained Hannah's old maid name tag.
Broken in half.
Beneath it was a photograph.
Hannah sleeping beside Mia.
Taken last night.
Inside the mansion.
Victor turned the photograph over.
One sentence.
SALVATORE WAS NEVER THE ONLY ONE.
Victor looked at his security chief.
“Lock everything down.”
Hannah stared at the picture.
Someone had stood close enough to photograph them sleeping.
Mia pointed at the corner.
There was a reflection in a mirror.
A figure.
Hannah enlarged it with her phone.
A woman.
Black dress.
White apron.
A maid.
Mrs. Higgins looked at the image.
Her face changed.
Victor noticed.
“You know her.”
Mrs. Higgins backed away.
“No.”
“Who is she?”
“I can't.”
Victor stepped closer.
“Higgins.”
The elderly housekeeper began trembling.
“That woman worked here before Hannah was born.”
Elena stood.
“What woman?”
Mrs. Higgins whispered a name.
“Margaret Vale.”
Elena dropped her coffee cup.
It shattered.
Hannah looked at her.
“Who is Margaret Vale?”
Elena's lips parted.
Before she could answer, every phone at the table vibrated simultaneously.
One message.
One photograph.
Mia standing beside Hannah.
Taken less than thirty seconds earlier.
Victor slowly looked toward the dining-room doorway.
May you like
Someone had been watching them.
And the door was already opening...
