Chapter 9 - THE SUNRISE
The diner was wrecked. Glass everywhere, bullet holes in the pie case, the smell of burnt oil and rain thick in the air.
Mercer was on his knees, surrounded by federal agents Dominic had summoned with a single phone call. The Costa hitmen were handcuffed in the mud outside. Emily Gable and Mateo were being dragged into unmarked vans.
I stood behind the counter. Toby was holding my hand, his grip tight, but his eyes were calm. He had seen his mother hold the line. He wasn't afraid anymore.
Mercer glared at me, his broken wrist handcuffed to his belt.
“The deed, Kaylee,” Mercer sneered, blood on his teeth. “Sunrise. You defaulted. The town owns the land.”
I looked down at the manila folder Mercer had brought in hours ago. The quitclaim deed was there, waiting for my signature.
Dominic Vale walked over to the counter. He had a fresh bandage on his side, courtesy of my first-aid kit, and he wore a clean, dry coat brought by his men.
He picked up the deed. He looked at it.
Then he tore it in half.
Mercer’s eyes went wide. “That’s a legal document! The bank—”
“The bank is under new management,” Dominic interrupted smoothly. He reached into his coat and placed a crisp, heavy envelope on the glass counter.
“At 5:15 this morning, while you were trying to burn this woman’s livelihood, my legal team purchased the First National Bank of Bellwether,” Dominic said. “The mortgages, the loans, the land. I own it all.”
Mercer’s jaw dropped. The last ounce of his power evaporated into the cold morning air.
Dominic looked at me. He pushed the envelope across the glass.
“Your mortgage is paid in full, Kaylee,” Dominic said. “And inside is a check for the repairs to this building. Consider it payment for the chili, the bandages, and your discretion.”
I stared at the envelope. It was more money than I could make in a lifetime.
“Dominic, I can’t take this,” I said, my voice thick with emotion.
“You earned it,” Dominic said softly. He looked around the destroyed diner. “You did not let yourself go, Kaylee Harper. You stood your ground. A fortress requires a strong foundation.”
He turned to the federal agents. “Take the sheriff. And before he goes to a federal cell, have him point out exactly where Dean Harper is buried. He deserves a proper funeral.”
They hauled Mercer to his feet and dragged him out the door. The sheriff didn’t look back.
The storm had finally passed. Golden morning light spilled through the broken windows, warming the cold floorboards.
Toby stepped out from behind the counter. He walked up to Dominic.
Toby held out his one-eared rabbit.
“For you,” Toby said. “Because you got a boo-boo.”
Dominic Vale, a man who commanded empires and crushed cartels, knelt down so he was eye-level with my six-year-old son.
He gently pushed the rabbit back toward Toby’s chest.
“Keep him, Toby,” Dominic said with absolute respect. “You are the man of this house. You need your soldiers.”
Toby smiled, hugging the rabbit tight. He looked up at me, his face glowing in the sunrise, safe, loved, and entirely at home.
Dominic tipped his head to me one last time, turned, and walked out into the morning light.
I took a deep breath. The diner was a mess. The floor needed mopping, and the windows needed replacing.
But as I tied my apron tighter around my waist, I realized something.
May you like
The bank didn't own the roof. The electric company didn't own the lights.
For the first time in my life, I owned it all.
