Chapter 7 - The Sister's Price
By dawn, the storm had passed.
The cold ocean fog cleared, revealing a bright, icy blue sky over Falcone Manor.
The Moretti assault force had been completely annihilated. Lorenzo Moretti was in federal custody at the regional hospital under twenty-four-hour police guard, his cartel dismantled in a single brutal night.
Inside the estate, the damage was extensive, but the structural integrity remained intact.
Maeve sat at the kitchen island, drinking a fresh cup of coffee, her hands trembling slightly as the delayed shock finally settled into her bones.
Roman walked into the kitchen.
He had removed his jacket. His white shirt was stained with soot, his knuckles bruised, but his dark eyes were clear, focused, and softer than Maeve had ever seen them.
He walked over to the island, set a heavy leather folder down beside her mug, and sat on the stool opposite her.
"The estate is secure," Roman said softly. "The Moretti family no longer exists as a functional entity in this city."
Maeve looked at the leather folder. "What's this?"
"Your sister," Roman replied.
Maeve's heart stopped. She sat up straight, her eyes locking onto his. "What about Lily?"
"At three o'clock this morning, while the assault was happening here, Lorenzo's secondary crew attempted to breach the Boston medical clinic where your sister was receiving treatment," Roman explained quietly.
Maeve gasped, her coffee mug slipping from her fingers, spilling hot liquid across the mahogany wood. "Oh God... Lily—"
"She's fine," Roman interrupted, reaching across the table to lay his large, warm hand directly over her shaking fingers.
Maeve froze at the touch. His hand was solid, hot, and surprisingly gentle.
"I had four of my personal security officers stationed outside her room three days ago," Roman said. "The moment you signed your contract with me, your family became my responsibility. The men who tried to reach her were neutralized before they crossed the lobby."
Tears welled up in Maeve's dark eyes, spilling over her eyelashes and running down her pale cheeks. She covered her face with her free hand, letting out a long, ragged sob that shook her entire frame.
For eight years, she had carried the terrifying weight of her sister's survival completely alone. She had worked double shifts, skipped meals, endured poverty, and faced down violent men—all to keep her sister alive.
And now, this cold, ruthless syndicate boss had handled it with a single phone call.
Roman didn't pull his hand away. He held her fingers tightly, his thumb stroking the back of her hand with rhythmic, soothing comfort.
"She has been transferred via private medical helicopter to the Massachusetts General Research Hospital," Roman continued softly. "The top renal specialist in the country has agreed to take her case. A matching donor kidney was secured two hours ago through our private medical network. The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning."
Maeve looked up through her tears, staring at Roman in absolute disbelief.
"Why?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Why would you do that for me?"
Declan and Gabriel walked into the kitchen.
Declan had a fresh, clean bandage over his shoulder, wearing a simple grey t-shirt. Gabriel had his arm in a black sling, his dark hair washed and brushed.
They stood beside Roman, looking at Maeve with an undeniable, fierce loyalty that made the massive kitchen feel suddenly small.
"Because you didn't run," Declan said gruffly.
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"Because you threw acid in a cartel boss's face to save my pathetic life," Gabriel added with a soft smile.
"And because," Roman said, his thumb still stroking her hand, "this house was a tomb before you walked through those gates. You didn't just clean our rooms, Maeve. You brought us back from the dead."
