Chapter 5 - The Night Elena StoodMarianne Pike’s statement changed everything.
Police reopened the DeLuca accident investigation.
The SUV was officially processed.
Financial investigators began dismantling Aaron’s loan network.
Warrants followed.
But Aaron himself remained missing.
Three weeks passed.
Then four.
Roman became more watchful.
Maya became more stubborn.
Elena became stronger.
On December nineteenth, snow covered Chicago.
Maya entered the music room carrying two mugs of cocoa.
Elena was standing.
Alone.
For one impossible second, Maya thought she was imagining it.
Elena had both hands on the piano.
Her wheelchair sat three feet behind her.
“Elena.”
“Don’t scream.”
Maya put the mugs down.
“What are you doing?”
“Standing.”
“I can see that.”
“My therapist said I can practice transfers.”
“Your therapist probably meant with someone present.”
“You’re present.”
“I am now.”
Elena’s legs shook.
Maya stepped closer.
“Sit.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
Sweat appeared at Elena’s temple.
Her right knee buckled.
Maya caught her.
Both women stumbled.
Maya’s damaged knee twisted beneath the sudden weight.
Pain exploded.
She gasped.
They landed against the piano bench.
Elena stared.
“Maya?”
“I’m okay.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re crying.”
“Those are victory tears.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
The door opened.
Roman entered.
He saw Maya on the floor holding her knee.
Everything in him changed.
“What happened?”
“She fell because of me,” Elena said.
Roman crossed the room.
Maya lifted a hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I need ice.”
“You need a doctor.”
“I need ice.”
Roman’s jaw worked.
Then he turned.
“Dante.”
Ice arrived in less than ninety seconds.
A doctor arrived twelve minutes later anyway.
Maya glared at Roman.
He did not apologize.
The injury was a severe strain, not a new tear.
She would need rest.
Physical therapy.
Possibly another MRI if swelling continued.
The doctor said something else.
“Your knee is unstable because the original reconstruction was never completed.”
Roman looked at Maya.
She looked at the ceiling.
The doctor continued.
“Why didn’t you have the second-stage procedure?”
Maya knew.
Money.
Aaron.
Debt.
Twenty-three thousand dollars sent to fraudulent lenders.
Roman’s face became dangerous.
The doctor left.
Roman said, “You’re having the surgery.”
Maya sighed.
“We’ve discussed this.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“You’re not paying for it.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“You were injured helping my sister.”
“I was injured four years ago.”
“You aggravated it here.”
“Still no.”
Roman stared.
Elena, from her wheelchair, whispered, “I’m going to leave before this becomes foreplay.”
Both turned.
“Elena!”
She wheeled out laughing.
Roman looked genuinely offended.
Maya covered her face.
“Your sister is impossible.”
“She learned from you.”
Maya lowered her hands.
Silence stretched.
Roman sat across from her.
“Why won’t you let anyone help you?”
The question was quiet.
Maya looked down.
“I do.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You let Elena help you carry things.”
“That counts.”
“You let the cook make you lunch.”
“She threatens me.”
“You won’t accept anything you can’t repay.”
Maya said nothing.
Roman understood.
“The envelopes.”
She looked at him.
“Free money is rarely free.”
Roman had heard the phrase.
Dante had told him.
“Your mother?”
Maya nodded.
Roman leaned forward.
“What would make surgery not free?”
“Nothing.”
“What if you work for it?”
She frowned.
“I already work here.”
“Not as a maid.”
Maya looked at him.
Roman glanced toward the music room door.
“Elena needs someone who understands movement.”
“I’m not a therapist.”
“No.”
“I’m not medically qualified.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
Roman considered.
“A rehabilitation companion.”
Maya laughed.
“You invented that.”
“Yes.”
“What does it pay?”
“Enough.”
“That means too much.”
“Probably.”
She narrowed her eyes.
Roman almost smiled.
“We’ll write a contract.”
“A real one.”
“Yes.”
“Hours.”
“Yes.”
“Responsibilities.”
“Yes.”
“No gifts.”
Roman frowned.
“Surgery as compensation?”
“If it’s in writing.”
Roman stared at her.
“You are the strangest woman I’ve ever met.”
“I mop your floors.”
“Not anymore.”
She blinked.
“Am I fired?”
“Promoted.”
Maya smiled despite herself.
Roman’s gaze dropped to her mouth.
The room changed again.
Neither spoke.
Then a crash echoed from the hallway.
Roman stood immediately.
Dante entered.
“Security gate. Vehicle rammed the east entrance.”
Roman’s hand moved beneath his jacket.
Maya’s blood turned cold.
“Who?”
Dante’s expression answered before his words did.
“Aaron Pike.”
Roman walked out.
Maya tried to stand.
Pain stopped her.
“Elena!”
Elena appeared in the doorway.
“What happened?”
“Aaron.”
Fear spread across her face.
Downstairs, alarms sounded.
Roman reached the foyer as security dragged a man from a wrecked sedan.
Aaron Pike.
He was thinner than the photographs.
Older.
Wild-eyed.
He had blood on his forehead.
He laughed when he saw Roman.
“You finally found me.”
Roman crossed the marble floor.
Dante caught his arm.
“Police are already coming.”
Aaron smiled.
“That what you do now, DeLuca? Call cops?”
Roman stopped six feet away.
“You killed my mother.”
Aaron’s grin disappeared.
“She died because your sister couldn’t drive.”
Roman lunged.
Three men restrained him.
Aaron laughed.
Then looked toward the staircase.
Maya stood at the top, leaning on Elena’s wheelchair for support.
Aaron’s face changed.
“There you are.”
Maya froze.
Roman turned.
“Maya, go back.”
Aaron called out.
“Still limping?”
Roman hit him.
One punch.
Hard enough to drop Aaron against the floor.
“Roman!”
Maya’s voice stopped him.
Police sirens approached.
Aaron spat blood.
“You think he’s saving you?”
Maya stared down.
Aaron smiled.
“You always did need someone.”
For years, that sentence would have broken her.
This time, Maya slowly descended one stair.
Then another.
Her knee screamed.
Roman moved toward her.
She raised a hand.
He stopped.
Maya looked directly at Aaron.
“I don’t need Roman to save me.”
Aaron laughed.
Maya continued.
“I needed you to stop hurting me.”
Silence.
“You never did.”
Her voice strengthened.
“So I saved myself.”
Aaron’s smile vanished.
Maya reached the bottom.
“And this time, you don’t get to disappear.”
Police entered.
Aaron was handcuffed.
As they dragged him away, Elena whispered from the staircase, “Mom.”
Roman looked at her.
Elena was crying.
Not because Aaron had been arrested.
Because for three years, she had imagined an invisible monster.
Now he was only a man.
Small.
Bleeding.
Handcuffed.
Mortal.
Roman walked to his sister.
Elena reached for him.
And for the first time since their mother died, they cried together.
Maya watched from several feet away.
Then turned to leave them alone.
Roman caught her hand.
She looked down.
He did not pull.
Did not command.
May you like
He simply held it.
Maya stayed.
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