Chapter 7 - THE LIGHT IN THE WEST WING
The small lamp in the corner of the staff quarters cast a warm, golden glow into the hallway. Natalie Brooks sat at her narrow wooden desk, staring down at a small stack of paperwork that needed to be filed before her shift officially ended at midnight. Her fingers tapped restlessly against the edge of the blotter as she replayed the chaotic events of the evening in her mind.
She had packed her small canvas duffel bag two hours ago, expecting to be fired on the spot by Celeste or dismissed by Marco in the fallout of the engagement dinner disaster. In the world of the Chicago elite, aides and household staff who witnessed too much dirt were usually paid off and shown the door before the sun came up.
Instead, the house had grown eerily quiet. The police sirens had come and gone; the luxury cars of the elite guests had vanished down the gated drive; and no one had come to tell her to leave.
A soft knock sounded on her open door.
Natalie looked up sharply. Marco DeLuca stood in the doorway, his black suit jacket removed, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. Without the imposing armor of his public persona, he looked tired—humanized by the storm they had all just weathered together.
“Mr. DeLuca,” Natalie said immediately, standing up from her desk. “I’m sorry, I was just finishing up my logs. I can gather my things and be out in ten minutes if you need me to go.”
Marco held up a hand, stepping into the small room. His dark eyes were calm and steady as he looked at her. “Where were you planning on going, Natalie?”
“I assumed... after everything that happened tonight, the household staff would be restructured,” she said honestly, keeping her chin up despite the knot in her stomach. “I saw what happened with Celeste. I know I crossed a line bringing Mr. DeLuca downstairs against her orders.”
“You didn’t cross a line,” Marco said quietly. “You drew one. And if you hadn't, my father would still be locked in his room believing I was ashamed of him.”
Natalie let out a slow, trembling breath, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “How is Mr. DeLuca?”
“He’s upstairs with my sister and my nephew,” Marco replied.
Natalie blinked, processing the word nephew. The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place in her mind, though she knew better than to ask for details. “I’m glad. He’s a wonderful man. He didn't deserve any of what happened today.”
Marco stepped closer, leaning his weight casually against the edge of her bookshelf. “When I interviewed you for this position ten months ago, your references said you were loyal, observant, and impossible to intimidate.”
“My references were accurate,” Natalie said, a faint, dry smile touching her lips.
“They understated it,” Marco corrected softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick, official-looking document bound in a leather folder, placing it gently on her desk beside her paperwork. “Celeste’s removal leaves a significant vacancy in the administrative management of this estate. My father trusts you. My sister trusts you. And I need someone running this house who won’t look the other way when things get complicated.”
Natalie looked down at the folder, then back up at him in surprise. “You’re offering me the estate manager position?”
“With a substantial increase in salary and full medical coverage retroactive to your mother’s physical therapy treatments,” Marco added smoothly, knowing precisely what incentives mattered most to her. “I want you to oversee the household, Natalie. On your terms.”
Natalie stared at him for a long moment, the magnitude of the offer sinking in. Her mother’s medical bills had been a constant, quiet source of anxiety for months; her brother’s college tuition was hanging by a thread. This single offer didn't just secure her job—it secured her family’s entire future.
“I accept,” Natalie said without hesitation, extending her hand.
Marco took her hand in his firm, warm grip. “Welcome home, Natalie.”
May you like
As Marco turned to leave the room, he paused in the doorway, glancing back over his shoulder. “By the way... Leo is asking if anyone knows how to build a LEGO pirate ship before bedtime. I told him I’d check downstairs.”
Natalie laughed softly, the last remnants of the evening's tension finally melting away. “Tell him I’m an expert at pirate ships. Give me five minutes.”
