Chapter 7 - Dawn Over the HarborThe first pale streaks of gray light were breaking across the Hamptons horizon, cutting through the tail end of the overnight storm. The rain had stopped, leaving the air crisp, clean, and smelling of salt water and wet pine.
Inside the grand foyer of the Starks estate, the grandfather clock struck six times.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
A peaceful, unbroken silence filled the house. No screams. No frantic running down the corridors. No terror.
Upstairs in the nursery, Lily and Rose were sleeping deeply, their small chests rising and falling in perfect, tranquil rhythm. The ripped teddy bear lay in the garbage bin outside, replaced by a simple, fluffy white bunny that Rory had bought them years ago before all the nightmares began.
Downstairs, the heavy oak front doors opened.
Two men in immaculate black suits walked in, carrying heavy black plastic cases. Behind them walked Rory Starks, his sleeves rolled up, his hands clean of blood, though the scent of gunpowder still lingered faintly on his jacket.
Veronica stood by the grand staircase, holding a cup of hot black coffee.
"Are they gone?" Veronica asked quietly.
"Marcus is being shipped back to Brooklyn in a cargo crate—minus his syndicates, his assets, and his breathing privileges," Rory said evenly, walking over to the marble table and setting down a heavy manila envelope. "As for Susan... federal marshals just picked her up on charges of domestic terrorism, wiretapping, and conspiracy to commit murder. Her assets are frozen, her accounts seized, and she’ll spend the rest of her natural life in a maximum-security penitentiary."
Veronica let out a long, slow breath she felt like she’d been holding for two days. She took a sip of her coffee, looking at the formidable mafia boss with a new level of understanding.
"You're a terrifying man, Mr. Starks," Veronica said softly, a faint hint of a smile touching her lips. "But you're a good father."
Rory looked up toward the second-floor nursery, his hard eyes softening for the first time in months.
"I was a blind father, Veronica," Rory corrected, turning to face her. "If you hadn't trusted your instincts, if you hadn't torn open that bear... I would have lost my girls forever."
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a thick velvet pouch, and placed it on the table beside the manila envelope.
"What’s this?" Veronica asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Your promotion," Rory said simply. "Effective immediately, you are no longer a household maid, Veronica. You are the head of estate security and chief guardian of my daughters. The salary comes with a zero at the end that will make your head spin, and full executive clearance across every Starks property."
Veronica stared at the pouch, then looked up into Rory’s steady, unwavering gaze.
May you like
She didn't hesitate. She picked up the pouch, weighed it in her palm, and smiled.
"Consider it handled, boss," Veronica said.
