Chapter 7 - The Morning After
By eight o’clock the next morning, the Moretti mansion had undergone a miraculous transformation.
A specialized cleanup crew had already boarded up the shattered bay windows, replaced the broken dining room doors, and swept away the remnants of plaster and spent bullet casings. To an outside observer driving past the iron gates, the estate appeared as pristine and untouchable as ever.
In the master dining room, the ruined velvet chair had been removed and incinerated.
I sat at the long mahogany table—not standing against the wall, not carrying a tray of coffee, but sitting in the high-backed leather chair right beside the head of the table.
Before me sat a spread of fresh fruit, warm croissants, and a porcelain cup of steaming black coffee.
Across from me sat my mother.
Helen Parker was clutching a fine china teacup with both hands, her gray hair neatly pinned, looking around the palatial dining room in a state of utter bewilderment.
“Grace, sweetheart,” my mother whispered for the third time that morning, leaning across the table. “Are you entirely sure we aren't going to get in trouble? This man... he’s the gentleman you work for?”
“Yes, Mom,” I smiled softly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “And no, we aren't in trouble. He’s the one who sent those men to protect your shop.”
The heavy oak doors clicked open, and Luca Moretti walked into the room.
He had showered and changed into a crisp, charcoal-gray three-piece suit without a tie, the top two buttons of his white dress shirt left casually open. His dark hair was brushed back, and though there were faint shadows of fatigue beneath his eyes, his presence still commanded every ounce of air in the room.
My mother instantly tried to stand up, her working-class instincts urging her to show deference, but Luca raised a gentle hand, stopping her.
“Please, Mrs. Parker, stay seated,” Luca said warmly. His tone was respectful, completely devoid of the icy menace he had displayed hours earlier. “It is an honor to have you in my home.”
“Mr. Moretti,” my mother said nervously. “I... I don't know how to thank you. Your men arrived at my shop just as those horrible men were breaking through the security grates. They escorted me here with the utmost courtesy.”
Luca took his seat at the head of the table. “Your daughter saved my life last night, Mrs. Parker. Ensuring your safety was the absolute minimum I could do.”
He signaled to Marco, who stood near the sideboard. Marco stepped forward and placed a thick, leather-bound folder on the table in front of my mother.
“What is this?” Helen asked, hesitating.
“The deed to your alterations shop on 47th Street,” Luca explained smoothly. “Along with the deed to the entire commercial building it resides in. The landlord who doubled your lease was a subsidiary shell company managed by Marcus Vance. As of six o’clock this morning, the title has been transferred entirely into your name. Free and clear. No rent, no mortgage, permanently.”
My mother gasped, pressing a trembling hand to her mouth. Tears spilled over her lashes as she looked down at the official legal paperwork bearing the city seal.
“Mr. Moretti... this is impossible. This is worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. I can’t accept this!”
“You can, and you will,” Luca said firmly, though his eyes were kind. “A mother who raised a daughter as brave and honorable as Grace deserves far more than a paid-off lease. Consider it a token of my family’s eternal gratitude.”
Helen looked at me, weeping openly with joy and relief, before looking back at Luca with profound gratitude. Marco gently stepped forward to guide my mother to the garden terrace so she could take some fresh air and call her sister, leaving Luca and me alone at the grand table.
I looked at the powerful man sitting beside me, my chest tight with emotion.
“You bought the whole building?” I asked quietly.
Luca picked up his espresso cup, taking a slow sip. “I bought the block, Grace. Vance’s assets were seized and liquidated overnight. It took one phone call.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he said, setting the cup down and fixing his gaze entirely on me. “Your mother will never worry about a roof over her head again. She is under my permanent protection.”
I swallowed hard, looking down at my hands. “And what about me? Do I go back to cleaning the guest suites?”
Luca let out a low, quiet chuckle. The sound was rich, warm, and sent a sudden shiver of electricity dancing down my spine.
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“You are never cleaning another room in this house, Grace,” Luca said.
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