Chapter 6 - The Seven-Day Trust
The New Hebrides Inn was a drafty, two-story clapboard building that usually housed leaf-peepers in October and ski tourists in January. In December, it was nearly empty, its small lobby smelling of pine wax and kerosene.
Lucian sat in a small wooden chair by the front window, a glass of cheap bourbon in his hand, watching the snow pile up against the curb. He had been in Vermont for three days, and every morning at exactly 10:00 AM, he walked up the hill to the red-brick farmhouse.
He didn't bring guns. He didn't bring threats. He brought a box of wooden blocks from the local general store and a gallon of milk because he had noticed the fridge in Serena’s kitchen was nearly empty.
"He likes the red ones," Serena said on Monday morning, sitting across the kitchen table from him while Nico sat on the floor, trying to balance a wooden triangle on top of a square.
Lucian knelt on the rug, his expensive wool trousers gathering dust from the old pine boards. He held out a red block, his face completely serious, as if he were negotiating a multi-million-dollar shipping contract with a rival syndicate. "Here, Nico. Take the red one."
Nico looked at the block, then at Lucian’s face. He reached out with both hands, snatching the toy with a loud, triumphant "Gah!" before banging it against the floor.
A small, genuine smile touched Lucian’s lips—a expression so rare that even Elena, who was standing by the stove with her arms crossed, had to look away to keep from softening.
"He has your hands," Serena said softly from the table.
Lucian looked down at his own palms, covered in silver scars from an old hit in Brooklyn ten years ago. "Let's hope he uses them for something better than I did."
"Why are you really here, Lucian?" Serena asked, her voice dropping the defensive edge she had maintained for three days. "The commission won't let you stay in Vermont forever. Marco called my phone this morning. He thought I was you. He said the Romanos are pushing the Queens line."
Lucian didn't look up from the blocks. "I told Marco to give them the line."
Elena dropped her spoon onto the stove with a loud clack. "You did what?"
"The Queens line is worth four million a year," Lucian said, his voice flat, his long fingers helping Nico balance a third block. "But it requires twelve men to guard the warehouses and three captains to handle the payoffs. I don't have the men to spare right now, Elena. Because my family is in Vermont."
Serena stood up, walking over to stand above him. "You can't just abandon your empire, Lucian. The other families will think you're weak. They’ll come for you. Everywhere."
Lucian stood up slowly, his height dominating the small kitchen once again, but his eyes were filled with a strange, quiet resolve. "Let them come, Serena. For ten years, I thought the empire was the only thing keeping me alive. I thought if I lost the ports, I lost my name. But then I spent ten months in that empty penthouse, looking at your empty closet and the room where my son was supposed to sleep, and I realized something."
"What?" she whispered.
"An empire is just a pile of cold stones if there's no one waiting inside," Lucian said, his gray-blue eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her chest ache. "I don't want the city anymore, Serena. I want my son. And I want the woman who was brave enough to leave me when I was too blind to see her."
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Before Serena could answer, the small black radio on Lucian’s belt chirped with static. It was Marco’s voice, filtered through an encryption loop, sounding panicked and distant.
"Lucian! We have a breach. The Romanos didn't stop at Queens. They tracked your security detail to the state line. They have three cars heading up Route 7 right now. They know you're alone, boss. Get out of the house. Now."
