Chapter 9 - The Cottage on the Coast
Six months later.
The village of Oakhaven sat seventy miles south of Grayhaven, tucked into a quiet green valley where the air smelled of salt pine and fresh rain rather than diesel smoke and old money.
Eva stood on the front porch of a small, white-shingled cottage overlooking the ocean cliffs.
The garden was filled with wild lavender, hydrangea, and sweet pea. Inside, the pine floors were scrubbed clean, the windows were open to the sea breeze, and the walls were solid, thin, and entirely honest.
She was no longer a maid. She had opened a small architectural restoration consultancy, using the knowledge her father had passed down to help old homeowners assess the structural integrity of their historic properties. She was paid well, worked her own hours, and slept deeply through the night.
At 3:00 in the afternoon, a simple silver sedan pulled up the gravel driveway.
The car door opened, and Roman Bellaro stepped out.
He looked strikingly different. He wore a simple dark blue sweater, jeans, and brown leather boots. His dark hair was slightly longer, touching the collar of his shirt, and his sharp, aristocratic face had lost the pale, haunted look of Bellaro House.
He walked up the wooden steps of the porch, holding a small brown paper bag.
"Mr. Bellaro," Eva said, leaning against the doorframe with a warm smile.
"Roman," he corrected her softly, stopping three feet away. "The federal court finalized the plea agreements yesterday."
Eva felt her chest tighten slightly. "And?"
"Three years probation," Roman revealed, a faint smile touching his lips. "Because I turned over the entire maritime network and testified against the regional syndicate bosses, the judge agreed to defer the custodial sentence. The Bellaro organization is officially dissolved. Bellaro House was demolished three weeks ago."
Eva let out a long, quiet breath she felt like she had been holding for six months. "Demolished?"
"Torn down to the bedrock," Roman confirmed. "There is nothing left of it but a pile of crushed limestone."
He held out the brown paper bag. "I brought you a gift."
Eva accepted the bag, opening the top. Inside sat a small, beautiful ceramic teacup, painted with delicate blue ivy along the rim.
She looked up, surprised. "I thought the imperial service was seized."
"It was," Roman said. "I bought this single cup back at the government liquidation auction. As a reminder."
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"A reminder of what?"
"That even the most expensive things in the world are fragile," Roman said, stepping closer, his dark eyes looking into hers with a deep, quiet warmth. "And that some things are worth breaking."
