Chapter 9 - The New Foundation
"CEO?" I stammered, my head spinning. "Roman, I don't know how to run a multi-million-dollar restaurant enterprise!"
"You know how every single inch of that building works," Roman countered, a rare, genuine smile gracing his features. "You know how the staff should be treated. You know how to make people feel safe. I have accountants and lawyers to handle the paperwork. I need someone with a soul to lead it."
Before I could process the offer, the glass doors opened, and Ethan walked out into the courtyard.
He was no longer pale or hooked up to IV lines. He wore a heavy green jacket, a dark scarf around his neck, his face showing only faint remnants of the bruises.
"Dad’s right, Clara," Ethan said, walking over and leaning against the wooden railing. "Besides, if you don't run the place, who’s going to make sure I get free hot chocolate when I come study after school?"
I looked at Ethan’s bright, healthy smile, then turned back to Roman, whose dark eyes held a profound, quiet hope.
For three years since my mother died, I had lived in survival mode. Counting quarters, avoiding eye contact, working double shifts in a cold city, feeling like a ghost passing through other people's lives.
For the first time in my life, I felt seen. I felt anchored.
"Under one condition," I said, looking at Roman.
"Name it," Roman replied instantly.
"Fifty percent of the restaurant’s annual profits go directly into a foundation for homeless youth and crime victims in South Boston," I stated firmly. "No money laundering. No hidden offshore accounts. Pure, clean charity."
Roman looked at me for a long moment, then let out a rich, deep laugh that echoed off the stone walls of the courtyard.
May you like
"Agreed," Roman said, extending his hand across the table. "You have a deal, Partner."
I reached out and took his hand. His grip was warm, strong, and steady—a bond forged in snow, blood, and absolute trust.
