Chapter 6 - Dawn on the HarborThe first light of Christmas morning broke over the Boston harbor, turning the slate-gray water into a sheet of polished silver. The snow had stopped, leaving the city blanketed in a pristine, untouched white quilt.
Inside the private study of the Ashcroft mansion, the fire had burned down to glowing embers.
Maeve sat in the wingback chair, nursing a fresh cup of coffee. Her left wrist still throbbed, and her bruised cheek was tender, but the heavy, suffocating weight of fear that had defined her life for the last three years was completely gone.
Killian walked in carrying a heavy, leather-bound folder and placed it gently on the desk in front of her.
“What is this?” Maeve asked, looking up.
“Your new title,” Killian said, leaning against the edge of the desk, looking down at her with an expression that had softened significantly from the cold, ruthless boss of the underworld. “Effective immediately, you are no longer the household housekeeper, Maeve. You are the Director of Asset Operations for the newly restructured Ashcroft-Donnelly Maritime Trust.”
Maeve stared at him, her green eyes wide. “Mr. Ashcroft—Killian—I don't know the first thing about running shipping terminals.”
“You know how to read ledgers, you know how to spot a liar, and you had the courage to risk your life to warn a man you barely knew,” Killian said softly, reaching out to gently touch the edge of her uninjured hand. “You kept this house running when everyone else was trying to rob it blind. It’s time you owned it.”
Maeve looked down at his hand resting near hers, then up into his steady, gray eyes. A slow, genuine smile broke across her face, contrasting gently with the healing bruise on her cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Ashcroft,” she whispered.
May you like
Killian’s mouth curved into a rare, faint smile.
“Merry Christmas, Maeve,” he replied, looking out the frost-covered window toward the bright, rising sun over the harbor. “Let’s go downstairs and make some breakfast. For once, the house belongs to us.”
