Chapter 8 - The Maid's True Name
Forty-eight hours after the night at the Grand Plaza, the sun was shining brightly over a quiet, secluded estate sitting along the wooded shores of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin.
This wasn't my grand Chicago mansion with its cold marble floors and iron gates. This was a modest, two-story stone house hidden behind ancient pine trees—a property I had purchased thirty years ago under a blind trust that no one in the city knew existed.
The wind rustled through the pines, carrying the fresh, clean scent of the lake water.
I sat on the wide wooden porch, wearing a simple gray sweater and trousers, holding a steaming mug of black coffee in my hands. For the first time in thirty years, there were no satellite phones ringing, no security reports to review, and no bodyguards standing at the edge of the driveway.
The screen door clicked open softly behind me.
Elena stepped onto the porch. She was dressed not in a black maid’s uniform, but in clean, casual clothes—a cream-colored wool sweater and dark denim jeans. Her hair was down, falling over her shoulders, and for the first time since I had met her, the cold, lethal tension in her jaw had vanished.
She walked over to the wooden railing, leaning against it and looking out over the blue lake.
"The police officially closed the investigation into the Grand Plaza incident this morning," Elena said, her voice light and relaxed. "It was ruled an internal syndicate liquidation. Marcus signed the final peace treaty with the Lucchesi family two hours ago. The city is stable, Vincent."
"And Marcus?" I asked, taking a sip of coffee.
"He’s doing well," Elena smiled slightly. "He’s restructuring the family business into a legitimate global logistics enterprise. He’s closing down the underground gambling dens and focusing entirely on legal shipping contracts. He’s turning your legacy into something your brother would have been proud of."
I set my mug down on the small wooden table beside my chair. I looked up at the woman who had spent three years sweeping my floors while secretly carrying a weapon to keep me breathing.
"What about you, Elena?" I asked quietly. "Or should I call you by your real name?"
She turned toward me, a rare, soft smile playing on her lips. "My real name is Elena Vance. My father was your brother’s original driver before he retired to Italy. I took this assignment because I promised your brother I would ensure the Carter family survived its own darkness."
"Your contract is over, Elena," I said, standing up from my chair and walking over to stand beside her at the railing. "The threat is dead. Marcus is safe. My empire is in good hands. You don't have to protect me anymore."
Elena looked into my eyes, her dark gaze searching my face with a depth of emotion that made my chest feel light, almost weightless.
"Who said I was protecting you because of a contract, Vincent?" she asked softly.
May you like
I looked at her, stunned into silence.
"For three years, I watched you bear the weight of an entire city on your shoulders," Elena whispered, stepping closer to me, her hand resting gently on my arm. "I saw a man who sacrificed his own happiness, his own peace, and his own life to protect a nephew who didn't understand him. I didn't stay in that closet to save a mob boss. I stayed to save you."
