Chapter 8 - GRACE CAME BACK ON HER OWN TERMS
Daniel’s death was eventually ruled a homicide.
The former security captain cooperated after extradition.
He admitted confronting Daniel on Carlo’s orders.
The plan, he claimed, was intimidation.
Then Daniel resisted.
A shove near the platform.
A fall.
Afterward they altered camera files.
Maybe he minimized intent.
Prosecutors would decide.
Grace did not attend every hearing.
“I spent two years letting Daniel’s death control our lives.”
She told me that one afternoon.
“I’m not spending another two letting his killers do it.”
Fair.
She returned to the estate after the investigation.
For one month.
Then resigned.
I reacted badly.
“No.”
Grace stared.
I corrected immediately.
“Why?”
“Better.”
Everyone was training me now.
She placed a brochure on my desk.
Property-management certification.
Night courses.
Internship.
“I started this before Mia was born.”
“You never finished.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Money.”
“Then finish.”
She smiled slightly.
“That’s the plan.”
“You can work here while—”
“No.”
I stopped.
“Why?”
“Because I need to know I can leave this house and still be okay.”
That hurt.
Not personally.
Or maybe partly.
I nodded.
“What about the cottage?”
“I found an apartment.”
“How?”
“Daniel's insurance settlement after the case reopened.”
Good.
Not my money.
Her life.
Her choice.
Then Grace said:
“You changed staff housing.”
“Yes.”
Employees now received ninety days minimum transition after termination unless immediate safety issues existed.
Medical leave protected.
Childcare emergencies had a formal process.
Complaints bypassed household management.
An outside HR firm reviewed them.
I hated HR.
Which probably meant it was useful.
Grace smiled.
“Mia says you're less scary.”
“Insulting.”
“She means it as compliment.”
“Worse.”
Then the door opened.
Mia walked in carrying Lily.
Not strapped to her back anymore.
Lily was toddling badly.
Mia said:
“Mr. Duca.”
“Yes?”
“Wall room done?”
Construction crews had removed the hidden door.
The passage remained for historic-preservation reasons, but the safe room itself was being converted into an open archive with glass walls.
No more hidden rooms.
“Almost.”
“What goes there?”
“Records.”
She frowned.
“Boring.”
“Nico chose it.”
“Still boring.”
My brother, now director of independent risk oversight for the legitimate Duca companies, entered behind her.
“I heard that.”
Mia smiled.
“Good.”
Nico loved her.
Terrible combination.
Grace looked at me.
“Thank you.”
“For?”
“Listening that night.”
I shook my head.
“I almost walked past.”
“But you didn't.”
Maybe.
Then Mia added:
“I would’ve knocked too.”
May you like
Of course she would have.
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