Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN WHO REFUSED TO BE RESCUED
Three months later, Dominic offered to buy my half of the building.
I said no.
Then he offered to buy the other half and give it to me.
I said no again.
Then he offered to “solve the financing issue.”
I threw a dish towel at him.
“You have an unhealthy relationship with the word no.”
“I hear it constantly now.”
“Good. Character development.”
In the end, I bought the remaining share myself.
Not because I suddenly had millions.
Because the settlement from Grace’s ownership interest, combined with a legitimate bank loan, gave me enough.
I left my old agency.
Marcy hugged me.
Then cried.
Then asked if I was hiring.
I was.
BROOKS PROPERTY CARE opened in April.
We specialized in homes belonging to elderly owners, busy families, and people who needed repairs but hated dealing with ten different contractors.
For the first time, I was not cleaning someone else’s business.
I was building mine.
Dominic never tried to take that from me.
He did, however, send twelve clients during my first month.
I discovered it after client number nine.
“You promised.”
“I promised not to interfere.”
“You sent customers.”
“That’s networking.”
“You sent the owner of the largest hotel group in Brooklyn.”
“He had plumbing problems.”
“He owns thirty-seven hotels.”
“Many pipes.”
I hated how much I loved him.
His own life changed too.
The investigation into Daniel Vale and Matteo exposed businesses Dominic no longer wanted connected to him.
He sold several operations.
Closed others.
Moved more of the organization into legitimate freight, real estate restoration, and security work.
People still feared him.
But I began to understand something.
Fear was not what Dominic wanted.
It was simply what he had learned to use.
One Sunday, he asked me to come to Montrose.
I expected dinner.
Instead, the neighboring brownstone was under construction.
“What is this?”
“Walk inside.”
The first floor had a commercial kitchen.
Upstairs were small furnished apartments.
A workshop occupied the basement.
I turned toward him.
“Dominic.”
He looked almost nervous.
I had never seen Dominic Vale nervous.
“It’s temporary housing,” he said. “For women leaving shelters, dangerous homes, or unstable situations.”
My throat tightened.
“Why?”
“Because Grace spent years protecting people with nowhere to go.”
He showed me the project name.
THE GRACE HOUSE.
I cried immediately.
Which irritated me.
Then I noticed a second sign.
OPERATIONS PARTNER: ELENA BROOKS.
I looked at him.
“You volunteered me?”
“No.”
His mouth curved.
“I was hoping you’d yell before reading the contract.”
“What contract?”
“Fifty-fifty control.”
I stared.
“No gifts?”
“No gifts.”
“My company gets paid?”
“Market rate.”
“I can fire your contractors?”
His face became pained.
“If absolutely necessary.”
“Then maybe.”
He smiled.
I was about to kiss him when a construction worker called my name.
He had found something behind an old fireplace.
A metal box.
Inside was one final envelope from my mother.
May you like
The front read:
FOR THE DAY ELENA FINALLY COMES HOME.
