Chapter 10
The next morning, sunlight broke through the heavy clouds over the Costello estate.
The scent of fresh coffee and roasted coffee beans drifted from the main kitchen.
Clara stood at the kitchen counter, tying her apron strings.
The events of the previous night felt like a surreal nightmare, but the signed ledger on the kitchen island proved it was real.
Chef Gerard walked in, carrying a crate of fresh apples.
“Mr. Costello is waiting for you in the formal dining room,” Gerard said gently.
“Does he want breakfast?” Clara asked, wiping her hands on a towel.
“He wants to talk,” Gerard smiled. “And he specifically requested another slice of that pecan pie.”
Clara let out a small laugh. “I’ll make a fresh one.”
She preheated the convection oven and pulled out the copper pan.
Brown butter bubbled and hissed, filling the kitchen with the rich smell of hazelnuts.
When the pie was golden and bubbling, she sliced a warm piece and placed it on a clean white saucer.
She walked down the long, sunlit corridor toward the formal dining room.
The heavy mahogany doors were propped wide open.
Damian sat alone at the massive dining table, reviewing financial documents.
He looked up as Clara entered.
The hard, dangerous edge in his eyes had softened significantly.
“You look rested,” Damian noted, standing up as she approached.
“It’s hard not to sleep well when the ghosts are finally put to rest,” Clara said, placing the saucer in front of him.
Damian picked up his fork and took a small bite.
He closed his eyes for a second, savoring the familiar balance of sweet molasses and smoky sea salt.
“Just like I remember,” Damian whispered.
“My mother’s recipe was infallible,” Clara replied with a proud smile.
Damian set his fork down and looked directly into her eyes.
“I am restructuring the entire foundation,” Damian said seriously. “Your mother’s name will be cleared publicly by noon today. And as for you... I want you to stay.”
May you like
Clara blinked, taken aback. “As a housemaid?”
“As my chief financial partner and estate director,” Damian corrected gently. “If you’re willing.”
