Chapter 8 - THE AFTERMATH
A week later, the crisp autumn wind swept through Chicago, carrying away the last remnants of the summer heat. I sat in the bright, cheerful physical therapy room at the rehabilitation center, watching my mother slowly walk between the parallel bars. Her therapist, a kind woman named Sarah, was guiding her hips. “Look at that, Hannah!” my mother called out, her speech slightly slurred but undeniably stronger than it had been a month ago. “Five steps without stopping!” “You’re doing amazing, Mom,” I beamed, clapping my hands. Luca had kept his promise. The morning after Vanessa’s arrest, a representative from his company had arrived at the center, paid my mother’s outstanding balance in full, and secured a year of top-tier, private physical therapy. The crippling weight of debt that had suffocated me for months vanished overnight. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Luca. Leo wants to know if you like chocolate chip or oatmeal raisin. We are baking. I smiled and typed back: Chocolate chip, obviously. Don't burn them. Over the past week, things had shifted drastically. I hadn't returned to work yet, but Luca had called every day. Sometimes it was to ask where I kept the good silver polish, but mostly, it was just to talk. To process the wreckage Vanessa had left behind. Vanessa was being held without bail in the county jail. The district attorney was pushing for first-degree murder, attempted murder, kidnapping conspiracy, and embezzlement. She was never going to see the outside of a cell again. When therapy finished, I helped my mother into her wheelchair and pushed her to the cafeteria for a cup of tea. “You seem lighter, honey,” my mother observed, blowing on her tea. “You’ve been smiling at your phone all week.” I felt my cheeks flush. “It’s just work stuff, Mom.” She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Work stuff. The billionaire who paid off my medical bills is texting you about work stuff.” “He’s my boss.” “He’s a man,” she corrected gently. “And you’re a beautiful, brave young woman who saved his family.” I shook my head, feeling a sudden wave of imposter syndrome. “Mom, he’s grieving. He just found out the truth about his wife’s death. He’s not looking for anything right now, and neither am I. I’m just glad they’re safe.” Before she could press the issue, my phone buzzed again. Can you come to the house? Just for a few minutes. I have something for you. I frowned. I’m still on leave. I know. Please. I looked at my mother. “I have to run an errand. Will you be okay here for an hour?” “Go,” she waved her hand dismissively. “Go see your boss.” I took an Uber to the mansion. When the massive iron gates parted, the property looked entirely different in the bright afternoon sun. The broken glass from the office window had been repaired. The shattered doorframes were replaced. I walked up the stone steps and rang the bell. Luca opened the door himself. He was wearing jeans and a soft gray sweater, looking more relaxed than I had ever seen him. The dark circles under his eyes were fading. “Hi,” he smiled. “Hi,” I replied, suddenly feeling incredibly shy. “Are the cookies burning?” “Leo ate most of the dough before we got them in the oven,” he laughed, stepping aside to let me in. The house smelled like vanilla and butter. It felt warm. I followed him into the formal living room. Teresa was sitting on the sofa, not in her wheelchair, a heavy blanket draped over her lap. When she saw me, her face lit up. “Hannah! Come sit.” I sat beside her. “You look wonderful, Mrs. Moretti.” “I feel wonderful,” she said, patting my knee. “I slept through the night for the first time in four years.” Luca stood by the fireplace, his hands in his pockets. He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher. Respect. Affection. And something deeper. “Hannah,” he started, clearing his throat. “I asked you to come over because we need to discuss your employment.” My stomach plummeted. I instinctively stiffened. Were they letting me go? Was it too weird to have the maid who knew all their darkest secrets walking around the house? “Did I do something wrong?” I asked quickly. “No,” Luca said immediately, stepping forward. “God, no. Hannah, you did everything right. But that’s the problem. I can't have you working as a housekeeper anymore.” I swallowed hard. “I understand.” “No, you don't,” he smiled gently, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a heavy envelope and handed it to me. I opened it. Inside were official documents. I scanned the first page. It was a deed to a small, beautiful condo three miles from the rehabilitation center, completely paid off. I gasped, dropping the papers onto my lap. “Mr. Moretti, I can't accept this.” “You can, and you will,” he insisted. “It’s in your name. It’s wheelchair accessible for your mother. It’s yours.” “Why?” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. “Because you gave me my life back,” Luca said softly, kneeling in front of me just as he had knelt for his mother at the dinner table. “You gave my son his safety. You gave my mother her peace. A house is nothing compared to that.” “But you said I’m fired,” I sniffled, wiping my eyes. “I said you’re not a housekeeper anymore,” he corrected, his eyes locking onto mine. “I’m offering you a different job.” “What job?” “Manager of the Moretti Family Foundation,” he said proudly. “We’re launching a charity in Catherine’s name to support families dealing with sudden trauma and medical debt. I need someone with heart, courage, and integrity to run it. I need you.”
