Chapter 13 - The Return to the Estate
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Clara spent two weeks in the hospital, recovering under the watchful, terrifyingly efficient guard of Milo, who sat outside her door twenty-four hours a day.
When she was finally discharged, she expected to be taken back to the crumbling apartment in Chelsea. Instead, the armored SUV pulled through the massive iron gates of the Brookline estate.
"Milo, my things are in Chelsea," Clara said nervously from the backseat.
"Mrs. Dora had them moved, ma'am," Milo grunted, pulling up to the front steps.
Clara walked into the grand foyer, her steps slow but steady. For the first time in years, the crushing weight in her chest was gone. Her heart beat with a strong, healthy rhythm.
"Mama!"
Noel came sprinting down the grand staircase, her pink glasses bouncing on her nose. She threw herself into Clara’s legs.
Clara dropped to her knees, hugging her daughter tightly, tears of pure joy streaming down her face.
Mrs. Dora stood at the top of the stairs, a rare, genuine smile on her stern face. "Welcome home, Clara. Your rooms are ready."
Clara looked up. "Rooms?"
"You are no longer on the cleaning staff," a quiet voice said from the doorway of the library.
Raphael stood there, leaning against the doorframe.
"You and Noel have been moved into the guest suite in the East Wing," Raphael continued, walking toward them. "You will be acting as the estate manager. Mrs. Dora needs the help, and I need someone I can trust."
Clara stood up, holding Noel’s hand. "Mr. Duca, I don't know how to run an estate."
"You managed to hide a four-year-old in a house full of assassins for six months," Raphael pointed out, a faint smile touching his lips. "I think you will manage the grocery budget just fine."
He looked down at Noel.
Noel looked back up at him. She reached into her little pocket and pulled out a smooth, clean river stone. She held it out to the terrifying mafia boss.
"For your house," Noel said seriously.
Raphael hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, he reached down with his large, scarred hand and gently took the pebble from the little girl.
"Thank you, Noel," Raphael said softly. He slipped the stone into the pocket of his tailored suit.
May you like
He looked back at Clara. The distance between them, the impossible gap between a maid and a mob boss, seemed to have vanished entirely.
"Rest, Clara," Raphael ordered gently. "We have a lot of work to do."
