Chapter 9 - The Sovereign’s Debt
The third-floor suite is quiet when Luca returns, the faint smell of eucalyptus and clean linen filling the air.
I am sitting up against the headboard of the king-sized bed, my cast resting on two silk pillows.
Mrs. Carter sits in an armchair nearby, knitting a woolen scarf to keep herself calm.
When the door opens, the housekeeper immediately stands and bows her head.
"She's asleep on and off, Mr. Moretti," Mrs. Carter whispers gently.
"Leave us, Maria," Luca says, his voice softening noticeably. "Go down to the kitchen and prepare warm soup."
The old housekeeper nods knowingly and slips past him, closing the heavy door with a gentle latch.
Luca removes his heavy wool coat and drapes it over the back of the settee.
He looks exhausted, the dark shadows beneath his eyes revealing the immense strain of the night.
He pulls the armchair closer to the edge of my bed and sits down, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Victoria is in federal custody," Luca says simply, watching my face to gauge my reaction.
A massive weight that I hadn't realized was crushing my lungs suddenly lifts away.
"She won't ever touch you again, Natalie," he continues. "I give you my personal word."
"And Mrs. Vance?" I ask, my throat tight with emotion. "Did the hospital save her?"
"Dr. Harris spoke with the ICU team ten minutes ago," Luca replies, a rare, genuine softness in his eyes.
"Her core temperature has stabilized. She is out of danger and asking to see the girl who tried to help her."
Tears spill down my cheeks, soaking into the cotton sleeve of my borrowed nightgown.
I cover my face with both hands, the overwhelming terror and adrenaline of the last eight hours finally collapsing.
I have spent years scraping by, terrified of landlords, terrified of wealthy employers, terrified of being discarded.
To have someone like Luca Moretti fight for my survival feels like waking up in an alternate reality.
Suddenly, a large, warm hand gently takes both of my wrists, easing them away from my face.
Luca’s rough, calloused thumbs wipe the wet tracks from my cheekbones with surprising tenderness.
"No more crying in this house, Natalie," he says softly, his deep voice vibrating right through me.
"You saved an innocent life tonight. You stood your ground against a killer while carrying an injury."
"I was just doing what anyone with a heart would do, sir," I whisper, looking into his dark, intense gaze.
"No," Luca counters firmly, shaking his head. "Most people would have looked the other way."
"Most people in my world would have sold that old woman out for a handful of twenty-dollar bills."
He reaches into his inner vest pocket and pulls out a small, ornate brass key.
He takes my right hand, opens my palm, and places the cool metal directly into my grip.
"What is this, Mr. Moretti?"
"That belongs to the safe in the master study," he explains quietly, closing my fingers over the brass.
"Inside is the complete deed to the house in Lincoln Park, along with five hundred thousand dollars in bonds."
"I already told you, sir, I cannot take that kind of money from you!" I protest, trying to hand it back.
"It's not charity, Natalie," Luca's voice drops into a firm, undeniable command.
"It is a debt of honor. The Moretti family does not allow blood debts to remain unpaid."
"Furthermore, I need someone in this estate whose honesty cannot be bought or terrified out of them."
"I am dismissing the entire basement security detail and rebuilding the staff from the ground up."
"I want you to oversee the household, answerable only to me."
My breath hitches as I stare down at the key in my trembling hand.
"You barely know me, Mr. Moretti... I'm just a maid from Humboldt Park."
Luca leans closer, his face mere inches from mine, his dark eyes searching deep into my soul.
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"I know everything I need to know about you, Natalie Brooks."
"And for the first time in ten years, I am looking at someone in this house who isn't wearing a mask."
