Chapter 9 - The Caruso Estate
Three days later, after Dr. Mercer cleared Grace with a completely restored and healthy prognosis, a convoy of five black armored SUVs escorted Grace to the Caruso family estate in Chestnut Hill.
The gates opened onto a fifty-acre private sanctuary surrounded by ancient oaks, stone fountains, and towering wrought-iron perimeters. The main residence was a sprawling stone manor that looked as though it had stood for centuries.
When Grace stepped out of the vehicle, half a dozen household staff were lined up in respectful greeting. An entire nursery wing had already been prepared on the second floor, furnished with hand-carved cherry wood cribs, hypoallergenic organic textiles, and high-end medical monitoring equipment.
Grace walked into the grand parlor, feeling like an intruder in a world of gold and velvet.
“You don’t have to pretend to be comfortable right away,” Vincent said, walking beside her at a respectful distance. “This house belongs to you. Every deed, every trust, every account. I have already instructed my attorneys to draft the succession papers.”
Grace turned to him, her eyes moist. “I’ve spent the last twelve years just trying to survive until the next rent check, Vincent. I don’t know how to be a Caruso.”
Vincent smiled faintly—a genuine, warm expression that erased the years of grief from his face. “You don’t have to be a Caruso, Grace. You only have to be yourself. Your mother taught you strength, resilience, and honor. You have more dignity than anyone who ever walked into this house.”
For the first time, Grace felt the knot of fear in her chest begin to loosen. But outside the parlor window, a shadow stood near the courtyard arbor.
May you like
Dominic Caruso, Vincent’s younger brother and the second-in-command of the family syndicate, watched Grace through narrowed, venomous eyes.
***
