971 She Took the Job as a Maid to Pay Her Sister’s Medical Debt—Only to Discover the Three Dangerous Brothers Who Own the Estate Are Her Own Flesh and Blood

"Well, well," Mrs. Hess said, her voice smooth and devoid of any warmth. "I always knew Elena was clever, but leaving a breadcrumb trail for her stubborn daughter to follow after all these years? That's almost poetic."

Roman moved instinctively, raising his weapon, but Mrs. Hess didn't flinch. She simply tilted her pistol slightly toward my head.

"I wouldn't, Roman," she warned, her eyes hard. "Unless you want your little niece's brains painted across these lovely historical documents. Vincent sends his regards, by the way. Though he's getting a bit old for field work, so I've been managing his portfolio lately."

"You," Gabriel snarled, taking a half-step forward. "You were our mother's nanny. You raised us."

"I raised future bosses," Mrs. Hess corrected sharply, her smile fading into a bitter sneer. "And then your father grew soft. He wanted to legitimize the business, hand the keys over to a bunch of accountants, and walk away from twenty years of hard work. Vincent and I weren't about to let a weak-willed patriarch throw away an empire."

She stepped further into the room, her eyes locking onto the black leather ledger resting on the desk.

"Step away from the desk, Maeve," she commanded. "Kick the ledger over here."

I looked at the ledger, then at Roman, Declan, and Gabriel. Their faces were carved from stone, every muscle coiled for a violent, desperate strike, waiting for the single fraction of a second needed to clear the line of fire.

I didn't kick the ledger. Instead, I slowly slid my hand into my coat pocket, my fingers wrapping around the heavy silver signet ring I had picked up off the floor back at the manor.

"You didn't bring me to Falcone Manor to protect me, did you?" I asked, my voice steady, cutting through the damp chill of the warehouse. "You brought me there because Vincent needed my signature. Under Maine state law, as Elena's direct descendant, I own thirty percent of the estate's original land grant—land that can't be sold or transferred without my consent."

Mrs. Hess's eyes narrowed slightly. "You're even sharper than your mother. But consent can be negotiated with a gun to your head."

"Maybe," I said, and before she could tighten her grip on the trigger, I pulled the heavy silver ring from my pocket and hurled it hard across the concrete floor.

It clattered loudly against a metal filing cabinet to her left.

For a split second—a mere half-beat—her eyes flicked toward the sound.

That was all Roman needed.

With a roar of pure fury, Roman lunged forward, tackling Mrs. Hess hard against the damp stone wall just as her pistol discharged, the bullet shattering a overhead light fixture in a shower of sparks. Declan and Gabriel swarmed in instantly, disarming her before she could recover her footing.

As the echoes of the scuffle faded into the damp air, Mrs. Hess was pinned to the floor beneath Declan's knee, breathing heavily, her iron composure finally shattered.

Roman straightened up, brushing dust from his suit jacket, and looked down at her with cold, merciless eyes. Then he turned his gaze to me, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction as he reached out and gently took the ledger from the desk.

"It's over," Roman said quietly.

"No," I replied, looking down at my mother's final letter still clutched in my hand. "It's not. Vincent is still out there. And now that he knows we have the ledger, he's going to come looking for the estate himself."