Chapter 12 - An Unmarked Vault Beneath the Gold Coast
In late January, Gus took Dela to a private building on the Gold Coast.
It was an unassuming gray limestone townhouse with no numbers on the door, protected by biometric locks and around-the-clock private security.
Inside, the building was warm, filled with soft light, high ceilings, and rows of mahogany bookshelves reaching up to the second floor.
“What is this place?” Dela asked, running her hand along a shelf filled with rare first-edition legal treatises.
“This was my grandfather’s private library,” Gus explained, walking over to a large fireplace where a cedar fire crackled softly. “When the city tried to seize it forty years ago during the waterfront wars, my father hid the deeds beneath the foundation.”
He turned to Dela.
“It’s yours now.”
Dela paused, looking around the magnificent room. “Augustine... I cannot accept this.”
“It’s not a gift,” Gus said, walking toward her. “It’s the headquarters of the Hawthorne Foundation for Port Labor Reform. You are the executive director. You have total autonomy. No board oversight. No political interference.”
Dela looked at him, her throat tightening. “Why are you doing all of this?”
Gus stopped in front of her.
He reached out and gently rested his palm over the curve of her stomach.
Beneath his hand, the baby gave a strong, distinct kick.
Gus’s eyes widened slightly in wonder. He looked down, a rare, genuine smile illuminating his entire face.
“Because for thirty-four years,” Gus whispered, “I thought the only way to survive in this city was to be more ruthless than the monsters around me.”
May you like
He looked up, his gray eyes shining with an emotion he had never allowed himself to feel.
“You proved there was another way, Delilah. You fought them with the truth. And you won.”
