Chapter 14 - THE MAID WHO COULD HAVE TAKEN HALF THE EMPIRE
The lawyers talked for four hours.
I understood maybe sixty percent.
Enough to know I had options.
Bad options.
Complicated options.
Very wealthy options.
Adrian’s shares.
Nora’s marital rights.
Old trust agreements.
Corporate charters.
When everything was calculated, my legal ownership in the legitimate Falcone holdings was enormous.
Not forty-one percent anymore after restructuring.
But enough to become one of the largest individual shareholders.
Roman watched me read the final page.
“What do you want to do?”
I looked up.
“You’re asking?”
“Yes.”
“Growth.”
His expression softened.
“I’m learning.”
Declan sat nearby.
“Please don’t sell the house.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“You hate this house.”
“I hate change more.”
I laughed.
Then I told them.
“I don’t want the criminal businesses.”
“They’re being dismantled,” Roman said.
“I don’t want people calling me Ms. Falcone.”
“That may be harder.”
“I don’t want bodyguards.”
Declan immediately said, “Denied.”
I stared.
Roman elbowed him.
Declan sighed.
“Requested reconsideration.”
“Better.”
I continued.
“I want Lily’s medical care covered by the trust Mom created.”
“Done,” Adrian said.
“I want Caroline to stop pretending she’s just a house manager.”
Caroline nodded.
“I want my father to testify and then figure out how to be my father without disappearing again.”
Adrian’s eyes filled.
“I’ll try.”
“And I want my share of legitimate profits placed into an independently managed foundation.”
Roman frowned.
“For what?”
“Medical debt.”
Everyone went quiet.
I thought of myself walking two miles through freezing rain because I had twelve dollars.
Families chose between medicine and rent every day.
I couldn’t fix everything.
But I could fix some things.
“The Nora Carter Medical Relief Fund.”
Adrian began crying.
I pretended not to notice.
Gabriel didn’t.
“He’s crying.”
“I can see that.”
“Just documenting.”
Adrian threw a napkin at him.
For the first time, the manor felt like family.
Chaotic.
Damaged.
Annoying.
Family.
Then Roman found me alone in the kitchen that evening.
I was making potatoes.
Again.
He leaned against the doorway.
“You know you don’t work here anymore.”
“I know.”
“You’re technically my business partner.”
“Terrifying.”
“You still cooked.”
“I was hungry.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“Maeve.”
“Yes?”
“I owe you something.”
“If you say money—”
“An apology.”
I stopped.
He continued.
“I treated you like a potential threat instead of a person.”
“Yes.”
“I made you choose between pride and money with that desk test.”
“Yes.”
“I knew you were struggling and still used it.”
“Yes.”
He winced.
“You’re making this difficult.”
“You earned difficult.”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
I believed him.
Then he said:
“And I would like to take you to dinner.”
I stared.
“Why?”
His confidence vanished for the first time.
“Because I like you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You had several dramatic opportunities to mention that.”
“I was busy discovering murders.”
“Fair.”
“Is that a yes?”
I considered him.
Roman Falcone.
Terrifying businessman.
Emotionally incompetent triplet.
Learning.
Trying.
“Dinner.”
His face softened.
“One dinner.”
“No bodyguards at the table.”
“Agreed.”
“No background checks on my date.”
“I am your date.”
“Exactly.”
He laughed.
Then Declan shouted from the hallway:
“ARE YOU TWO FLIRTING?”
Roman closed his eyes.
May you like
I smiled.
Falcone Manor was officially unbearable for entirely different reasons.
