Chapter 7 - Daylight
By 8:00 A.M., the storm had passed completely. Bright, clean morning sunlight streamed through the high windows of the hospital’s fifth-floor ICU recovery wing.
The police cars and federal vans outside were packing up, having taken Dominic Moretti and his remaining organization into custody. The grand jury had already been convened early due to the high-profile nature of the arrest.
Inside Room 502, Wyatt was awake. His color had returned, a healthy pink hue touching his cheeks, and he was sitting up in bed drinking apple juice through a straw while Mrs. Ros—who had taken a taxi from the estate at dawn—fed him small pieces of toast.
"He eats like a horse already," Mrs. Ros declared with a affectionate chuckle, smoothing Wyatt’s hair. "Just like his father used to."
Josephine sat on the edge of the bed, a soft blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, but her face held a peace she hadn't known in two long years.
The door opened quietly, and Raphael stepped inside.
He had changed into a clean dark suit brought by Gideon, his hair brushed back, looking every bit the powerful nobleman of the underworld, yet his eyes immediately searched for Josephine.
Wyatt looked up, his face lighting up. "House man!"
Mrs. Ros gasped gently. "Wyatt, show some respect!"
Raphael let out a rare, low chuckle, walking over to the bed. "It’s fine, Mrs. Ros. I think I prefer 'house man'."
He reached out and patted Wyatt’s head gently. "How are you feeling, kid?"
"My chest feels tight, but the doctor said my heart is brand new," Wyatt grinned. "Are we still going to your house?"
"Whenever the doctor says you’re ready," Raphael replied. He turned his eyes toward Josephine. "Josephine, can I speak with you for a moment?"
Josephine nodded, standing up and following Raphael out into the quiet hallway.
They walked toward the outdoor terrace at the end of the corridor. The crisp, morning air washed over them, carrying the fresh scent of rain and the ocean breeze from the harbor.
Josephine leaned against the stone railing, looking out over the city of Boston. "Gideon told me what happened in the basement."
"It’s over, Josephine," Raphael said, standing beside her, resting his hands on the stone ledge. "Dominic Moretti, his lieutenants, his financial backers—they are all behind bars. The federal government has seized their assets. You and Wyatt are completely free. You don't have to hide anymore. You don't have to use fake names or work double shifts."
Josephine looked down at her hands—hands that had scrubbed floorboards and folded sheets for two years to survive.
"I don't know how to live a normal life, Raphael," she said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "For two years, every breath I took was about surviving the next hour."
"You don't have to figure it out alone," Raphael said.
She turned to look at him.
Raphael reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, old-fashioned brass key—the key to the third-floor study at the Orsini estate.
"For two years, you worked under my roof, believing you were alone," Raphael said, his dark eyes locked onto hers with intense sincerity. "Last night, at 12:43 A.M., you knocked on my door. You brought me back to life, Josephine. You made me remember that I’m still a man, not just a ghost haunting a giant house."
May you like
He placed the key into her palm, folding her small fingers around it.
"I don't want you to be my maid anymore, Josephine," Raphael said softly. "I want you and Wyatt to stay at the estate. Not as employees... but as my family."
