Chapter 8 - THE FALL OF ELEGANCE
Skylar stared at the foreclosure notice. The bold red letters blurred through her tears.
Bianca hadn’t just bought her father’s medical debt; she had bought his mortgage, too. The deadline was tomorrow. Even with the Morettis ruined, the bank would still take the house. Everything she had endured, every double shift, every insult—it had all been for nothing.
“Skylar?” Dominic asked, his deep voice pulling her back. He gently took the paper from her shaking hands.
His eyes scanned the document. His jaw clenched so tight a muscle popped in his cheek.
“I lost it,” Skylar whispered, a sob breaking in her chest. “I lost my dad’s house.”
“No,” Dominic said fiercely. “You didn’t.”
He stood up, pulling out his phone. He dialed a number, holding the phone to his ear as he looked down at her.
“Anthony,” Dominic barked into the phone. “Call the president of First Albany Trust. Wake him up. Tell him the Gallagher property on 4th Street is now owned by the Rossi estate. Pay it off. Double the asking price if you have to. If it’s not done in ten minutes, I’ll buy his entire bank and fire him.”
He hung up, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
Skylar stared at him, paralyzed by shock. “Mr. Rossi… I… I can’t pay you back for that. It’s too much.”
“You already paid for it,” Dominic said quietly, kneeling back down. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping a tear away from her uninjured cheek. “You saved my mother’s life. You stood between her and a blow meant to break her. And tonight, you took on a grown man with a crowbar.”
A small smile touched his lips. “You are the bravest woman I have ever met, Skylar Gallagher.”
Skylar’s heart did a strange, violent flip in her chest.
Footsteps approached. Carmela had reached the bottom of the stairs, with little Leo holding tightly to her hand.
“Skylar,” Carmela said warmly, crouching down beside them. “Are you alright, my dear?”
“I’m okay,” Skylar nodded, though her arm was throbbing fiercely.
Leo let go of his grandmother’s hand and stepped forward. He reached into his pajama pocket and pulled out a small, slightly crumpled object.
He held it out to Skylar.
It was a plastic band-aid with cartoon dinosaurs on it.
Skylar felt a fresh wave of tears hit her eyes. She smiled, leaning down so the boy could reach her face. Leo clumsily peeled the backing off and stuck the band-aid right over the medical tape the doctor had applied to her cheek.
Then, for the first time in two years, the six-year-old opened his mouth.
“Better,” Leo whispered.
The entire foyer went dead silent.
Dominic’s breath hitched. He stared at his nephew, his tough, mob-boss exterior shattering completely.
“Leo?” Dominic choked out.
Leo looked at his uncle, then wrapped his arms tightly around Skylar’s neck.
Skylar held him back, burying her face in his curls.
Dr. Evans rushed back into the room to tend to Skylar’s arm. They moved her to the plush sofas in the sitting room. The chaos of the night was slowly being cleaned away by the staff, who looked at Skylar with a newfound, awe-struck respect.
An hour later, her arm was wrapped in a splint. The house was quiet.
Skylar stood up, smoothing down her ruined, bloody apron. She walked over to the antique desk in the corner, pulled out a piece of estate stationery, and began to write.
When she was finished, she folded it neatly and walked toward the study, where Dominic was speaking quietly with his security team.
She waited by the door until the men dispersed.
Dominic looked up, his expression softening instantly when he saw her. “You should be resting.”
“I just wanted to drop this off,” Skylar said, setting the folded paper on his desk.
May you like
Dominic frowned. He picked it up and opened it.
It was a letter of resignation.
