Chapter 9 - THE BIRTHDAY CAKE
~900 words
I stared at him, my mind spinning. “You gave it to her? Arthur said it was evidence against you.”
Vincent shook his head, a sad smile touching his lips. “Arthur didn't know the whole truth. Maria wasn't going to the FBI to turn me in. She was going to the FBI to turn them in.”
“Them?”
“The men I worked for,” Vincent said quietly. “Sixteen years ago, I was caught up with people I couldn't escape. Maria kept the books. We copied everything onto that drive. We were going to trade it for witness protection. We wanted out, for Lily’s sake.”
He looked down at the necklace. “But the night she went to hand it over... Charlotte and Arthur’s brother hit her car.”
Charlotte sobbed from the back seat. “I didn't know, Vincent. I swear I didn't know.”
“You didn't,” Vincent agreed coldly. “But you stole her necklace. And Arthur found out what was inside it. That’s why he wanted it so badly. He could have sold that drive back to the mob for millions.”
Vincent pocketed the necklace. “It’s over now. Marcus has Arthur. We have his confession on a wire we planted in his car while it was in the shop last week.”
I blinked. “You knew?”
“I knew Arthur was planning something,” Vincent said. “I didn't know he was behind the hospital wing, and I didn't know about the tea.”
He looked past me, straight at June.
The elderly woman shrank back against the leather seat.
Vincent opened the back door and knelt down so he was eye-level with her.
“June.”
She couldn't look at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Romano. I’m so sorry I couldn't save her.”
Vincent reached out and gently took her swollen, arthritic hands in his.
“June, look at me.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes.
“The doctors told me,” Vincent whispered, his voice cracking, “that Lily passed away peacefully. Her heart just slowed down, and she went to sleep. They said it was the most painless way it could have happened.”
June nodded, tears spilling over her cheeks.
“If Arthur hadn't poisoned the tea,” Vincent said, “the doctors were going to put her on a ventilator the next morning. She would have suffered for weeks. Trapped in a bed, in agony.”
He swallowed hard.
“Arthur thought he was hurting me. But what he actually did... was give my daughter mercy.”
June let out a ragged breath, the heavy weight of five years of guilt finally breaking. She leaned forward, and Vincent hugged her. The feared mafia boss of Boston, holding a seventy-four-year-old dishwasher on the side of a highway.
“You stayed with her,” Vincent whispered into her hair. “You loved her. You brought her tea and birthday candles. You gave her the only comfort she had left.”
He pulled back and wiped a tear from his own eye.
“Tomorrow morning, the hospital wing will be returned to the charity. Arthur signed a reversal before Marcus put him in the truck.”
He looked at Charlotte.
“You will pack your things. You will leave the house tonight. I never want to see your face again. If you ever come near my family, I will let Marcus handle it. Do you understand?”
Charlotte nodded frantically, completely broken.
Vincent stood up and looked at me. “Evelyn. Can you drive June back to the estate? I’ll ride back with Marcus.”
“Yes, sir.”
Three hours later, the estate was quiet again.
Charlotte was gone. Arthur was in police custody, handed over anonymously with the dashcam footage and the wiretap.
I was in the kitchen, wiping down the counters. The engagement party decorations had been torn down and thrown away.
The back door opened, and Vincent walked in. He wasn't wearing his tuxedo jacket anymore. He looked exhausted, but the dark shadow that had haunted him since I started working here seemed to have lifted.
He was carrying a small, white cardboard box.
He set it on the counter in front of June, who was sitting at the servants' table, drinking a cup of hot tea.
“What is this?” June asked softly.
Vincent opened the box. Inside was a small, perfectly decorated chocolate cake. With one candle in the center.
“I ruined your birthday party earlier,” Vincent said quietly. “I thought we should try again.”
June smiled, her eyes watering.
Vincent pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “Make a wish, June.”
She looked at the candle, closed her eyes, and blew it out.
“What did you wish for?” I asked softly.
June opened her eyes and looked at Vincent. “I wished for peace.”
Vincent smiled. “I think you got it.”
He cut a slice of the cake and handed it to her. Then he looked at me.
“Evelyn. I need a new house manager. The pay is triple what you make now, and you get Sundays off.”
I smiled. “I accept.”
May you like
Vincent took a bite of the cake. For the first time in five years, the Romano estate didn't feel like a tomb. It felt like a home.
And upstairs, at the end of the hall, the door to the playroom remained unlocked.
