Chapter 7 - The New Contract
I stared at him, my fingers tightening around the edge of the silver tray. “A contract? For what?”
Gabriel stepped closer, the scent of cedarwood, expensive scotch, and winter air washing over me.
“Effective immediately,” Gabriel said, his gray eyes steady and unyielding, “the estate is undergoing a complete management restructure. Effective tomorrow morning, Mrs. Gable is stepping up to oversee corporate hospitality for Mercer Industries, which leaves the position of Head Estate Manager vacant.”
My breath hitched. “Head... Head Estate Manager? Mr. Mercer, I’m a housekeeper. I clean rooms. I don't run an estate of this size.”
“You handled a room full of thirty-eight hostile snobs without flinching, caught a lie in real-time, and maintained your dignity while a woman half your size tried to rip your dignity to shreds,” Gabriel pointed out, a faint, humorless smirk touching the corner of his mouth. “I think you can handle managing a staff of twelve and a few flower arrangements.”
“I—I don't know what to say,” I stammered, the floor beneath my feet suddenly feeling unstable.
“You don't have to say anything tonight,” Gabriel continued, pulling a folded cream-colored document from an inner pocket of his tuxedo and laying it on the mahogany table beside us. “The base salary for the position covers your daughter’s medical expenses in full, a comprehensive family health plan through Massachusetts General, and a housing stipend that will get you and Lily out of that tenement on Dorchester Avenue by the end of the month.”
I looked down at the paper, then back up at his face. The enormity of it—the sudden, violent shift in the trajectory of our lives—felt like a dream I was terrified of waking up from.
“Why?” I whispered, the same question I had asked a dozen times in my head since the night began. “Why do this for me? You could have just fired Celeste, paid me my hourly wage, and forgotten my name by midnight.”
Gabriel paused. He looked down at the bruised mark on my cheek, his jaw tightening once more into that dangerous, cold line.
“Because, Elena,” Gabriel said softly, his voice dropping into a low murmur that only I could hear, “for the first time in my life, I watched someone stand up to a world built on lies and refuse to break. And frankly... Boston has enough people who know how to lie. It needs more people who know how to tell the truth.”
He picked up the document and tapped it lightly against my hand, forcing my fingers to close around the heavy cream-colored paper.
May you like
“Think about it tonight,” Gabriel said, turning toward the grand staircase. “Sign it in the morning when you come in for Lily’s medicine. Mrs. Gable will show you to the master wing office.”
Without another word, Gabriel turned and walked up the grand staircase, his footsteps echoing softly against the marble until he disappeared around the landing.
