Chapter 2 - Eleanor's Bracelet
Roman did not reach for Mara.
That mattered.
He did not announce that she belonged to him.
He did not threaten Bianca.
He called an ambulance because Mara was dizzy, then told one of his men to wait fifty feet away until she decided whether she wanted security.
Mara chose the ambulance.
Roman followed in his own car.
At Mercy Shore Hospital, Dr. Anika Patel confirmed the baby was fine.
Mara's blood pressure was high.
Her lip needed two stitches.
The bruising on her cheek was photographed.
A police officer took a statement.
Bianca's last name did not make assault disappear.
It only made everyone more careful.
Roman waited in the hallway.
When Mara finally let him enter, he stood near the door.
"Your mother saved my brother's life."
Mara stared.
"What?"
"Not the way you're thinking."
His older brother, Luca, had been a dockworker before the Castellano family became what newspapers later called an organization.
In 2002, Luca was injured in a crane accident.
A private compensation fund had been created for injured dockworkers and their families.
Luca's claim vanished.
So did dozens of others.
"Eleanor worked for the administrator," Roman said.
"My mother worked payroll."
"She worked payroll after she left the fund."
Mara's chest tightened.
Roman continued.
"She found altered beneficiary files. She brought copies to my father."
"Your father was already Mafia?"
Roman's mouth twitched without humor.
"He was already a criminal, yes."
The directness surprised her.
"What happened?"
"My father wanted to use the information against the people running the fund. Eleanor wanted families paid."
"Who was running it?"
Roman looked toward the hospital window.
"Men who later became respectable."
Mara thought of Bianca.
"Her father?"
"Senator Everett Vale was a young county attorney helping structure the public-private settlement."
Bianca's father.
A man who built a national reputation on labor reform and anti-corruption speeches.
Mara laughed once.
It hurt her lip.
"Of course."
Roman pointed to the bracelet.
"April 18, 2002 was the date Eleanor copied the original claimant register before it was replaced."
Mara touched the charm.
"Why put that date on jewelry?"
"Because she was afraid she'd forget why she started."
Mara thought of her mother fastening it around her wrist on Christmas morning.
Remember who you are.
The phrase felt different now.
Roman sat.
"Did she leave you anything?"
"No."
"Files?"
"No."
"Letters?"
Mara hesitated.
Her mother left a metal recipe box.
Mara had never opened half the envelopes because grief made ordinary handwriting unbearable.
"I don't know."
Roman nodded.
No demand.
Then he said, "About the baby."
Mara stiffened.
"I am not asking you to move in with me."
"Good."
"I am not asking you to trust me."
"Better."
"I am asking for a paternity test when it is medically appropriate."
"Yes."
"And if the child is mine, I want legal responsibility documented."
Mara studied him.
"Responsibility."
"Support. Medical care. Whatever the court says. Whatever you agree to beyond that."
Not ownership.
Her shoulders loosened slightly.
Then Preston entered the doorway.
Roman stood.
Preston's face was gray.
"Mara, can we talk?"
"No."
"I didn't know Bianca followed you."
"That is not why I said no."
Preston looked at Roman.
"This is between us."
Mara almost laughed.
"There is no us."
Preston flinched.
Three years earlier, he had handed her divorce papers through an attorney after telling her he was in love with Bianca Vale.
He kept the townhouse.
Mara kept debt from her mother's cancer treatment and a settlement barely large enough to survive.
Then Bianca's household agency offered Mara work.
Mara had been too broke to refuse.
Preston said, "I never wanted you working in our house."
"You never stopped it."
He looked down.
Again.
Silence as participation.
Then Roman's phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His expression changed.
"What?"
Roman turned the screen toward Mara.
A photograph.
Eleanor Whitfield entering Senator Everett Vale's campaign office.
Timestamp:
Nine months before Eleanor died.
Beneath it was a message from Roman's attorney.
VALE'S PEOPLE JUST ASKED WHETHER YOU HAVE THE WHITFIELD FILE.
Mara stared.
"My mother died eight months ago."
Roman nodded.
"Which means the senator was looking for whatever she knew before you ever met me."
----------------------------------------
The next chapters are on the left side of your screen.
May you like
If you enjoyed the story, bookmark my site: https://metro.treeiq.biz
New stories are posted daily, so check back for updates.
