Chapter 11 - The Aftermath
The morning after the attack was silent. The rain had stopped, leaving the estate wrapped in a thick, gray fog that hung low over the manicured lawns.
A crew of workers was already busy repairing the heavy oak front doors and sweeping up the shattered glass from the grand hall. The scent of gunpowder still lingered in the air, but the danger had passed.
In the master suite of the west wing—a room Maya had never entered before—Julian lay in his large four-poster bed, his shoulder wrapped in clean white bandages. Dr. Aris, the same quiet physician who had treated Dominic Vale's people, was packings his medical bag in the corner.
"The bullet passed clean through the muscle, Dominic—I mean, Julian," the doctor murmured, catching his mistake with a quick glance at Maya, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. "But you need to keep that arm still for at least two weeks. No shooting. No lifting. No wars."
"Thank you, doctor," Julian said, his voice weak but firm.
As the doctor left, Maya reached for a bowl of warm water and a clean cloth, gently wiping a smudge of dried blood from Julian's collarbone. Her hands were steady now. The fear that had defined her life for six months had vanished, replaced by a quiet, protective resolve.
"Derek escaped," Julian said, his eyes tracking her movements. "My men chased him to the state line, but he had a boat waiting on the river. He’s gone back to Boston."
"I know," Maya said, her voice quiet. "But he knows he can't touch me here. He knows what happens if he tries."
She set the cloth down, looking at the bandages over his shoulder. "Why did you do it, Julian? You could have let your guards handle them. You didn't have to throw yourself in front of that bullet."
Julian reached out with his uninjured hand, his fingers catching hers. "Because when I saw him looking at you on that staircase... when I saw his gun aimed at your chest... I realized something."
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"What?"
"I realized that if you died, this house would just be a tomb again," Julian said, his voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable whisper. "The walls... the security... they don't mean anything if there’s no one inside worth protecting. You’re not my business partner anymore, Maya. You’re my home."
