Chapter 7 - The Lingering ShadowWithin twenty minutes, the estate was quiet again.
Dominic and Arya had packed their belongings into two hurried suitcases, their luxury vehicles speeding down the gravel driveway and vanishing into the gathering dusk. The guards stationed at the front gates ensured they took nothing that didn't belong to them, stripping Arya of every piece of jewelry purchased with Corvino capital.
Marcus had fled shortly after, his medical license miraculously intact only because I needed him compliant for my ongoing physical therapy, though he was permanently barred from ever stepping foot near my estate again.
The bedroom felt enormous, echoing with the silence of a kingdom reclaimed.
I sat by the window, watching the tail lights of Dominic's car disappear down the winding road. My legs felt heavy, dead weights anchored to the footrests of the chair, but for the first time in six months, the numbness inside my chest was gone. Replaced by fire. Replaced by purpose.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," I said without turning around.
The door clicked open, and Tessa stepped into the room. She was holding a fresh tray of ice water and a warm towel, her navy uniform still unpretentious and worn at the cuffs.
"They're gone," she said quietly, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "The staff downstairs is back in order. Chef is already preparing dinner."
I turned my wheelchair around to face her. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, her dark circles were still visible—the universal badge of someone working two jobs to keep a family afloat.
"You risked your job today," I said, my voice softening just a fraction. "You could have kept your head down, taken your twenty-five dollars an hour, and let them ship me off to an institution. Why didn't you?"
Tessa paused, her hands resting on the edge of the tray. She looked up, her steady brown eyes meeting mine without a shred of intimidation.
"Because I know what it’s like to feel like a lost cause, Mr. Corvino," she said simply. "When my sister was diagnosed, the doctors told us to prepare for the worst. They told us she’d never walk out of that hospital, so we should stop wasting money on physical therapy. Everyone around us gave up."
She took a slow breath. "I didn't spend my life working two jobs to watch people give up just because things got difficult. If you’re going to fight for your empire, you have to start by fighting for yourself."
The words hung in the air, simple and devastatingly honest. No fake loyalty. No pity. Just truth.
"Twenty-five dollars an hour isn't enough," I said suddenly.
Tessa blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
"Effective immediately, your rate is five hundred dollars an hour," I said, leaning forward. "And you’re no longer just an aide. You’re my chief of staff. I need someone who isn't afraid to look me in the eye and tell me the truth when everyone else is lying."
Tessa stared at me for a long, silent moment, a slow, disbelieving smile breaking through the exhaustion on her face.
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"That's quite a promotion, Mr. Corvino."
"Call me Vincent," I said. "And tomorrow morning at seven, we start therapy again. No shortcuts."
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