Chapter 2 - The Secret of Cape MayThe room fell into a heavy, reverent quiet, broken only by the crackle of the bacon grease in the skillet.
"For three weeks," Gabriel added, stepping into the kitchen and leaning his hip against the stainless-steel counter, "Clara hid three fugitive Falcone boys in her pantry. She fed us every morning before opening her doors. When our uncle finally tracked us down to bring us back to the estate... she stood in that doorway with a cast-iron skillet and told five armed men that if they touched those boys, she’d crack their skulls."
A quiet, disbelieving laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. "That... that sounds exactly like my mother."
"Before we left," Roman spoke, his dark voice cutting through the steam with an absolute, unyielding weight, "our uncle paid her fifty thousand dollars to keep her mouth shut. She refused the cash."
Roman stepped up to the island, stopping three feet from where I stood. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a small, tarnished silver pocket watch engraved with a coastal lighthouse—a watch I recognized instantly because my mother had kept its matching chain in her jewelry box until the day she died.
"She told our uncle that she didn't take money for feeding hungry children," Roman said softly, laying the silver watch flat on the wooden island between us. "She told him that if we ever needed a home again... the door was unlocked."
He raised his storm-gray eyes, looking at my faded sweater, my red, chapped hands, and the shadow of exhaustion beneath my eyes.
"For twenty years," Roman revealed, "we searched for Clara Vance to repay that debt. When our intelligence team brought us your file two days ago... we saw your name. Maeve Carter. Daughter of Clara Vance."
My breath caught in my throat. The puzzle pieces of the last forty-eight hours suddenly smashed together in my mind with blinding, terrifying clarity.
The blood on the wall. The thrown glass. The fifty thousand dollars in cash in the desk drawer. The impossible forty-eight-hour test that every other maid had failed.
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"You weren't testing me to see if I was brave enough to stay," I whispered, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and sudden, burning indignation. "You were testing me to see if I was like her."
"We were testing to see if Clara’s daughter had her spine," Declan corrected, stepping beside his brother. "And you closed the cash drawer and told Roman to use direct deposit."
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