Chapter 9 - The Recovery of the Harpers
By three o'clock in the morning, the rain outside the Beacon Hill mansion had stopped, leaving behind a quiet, misty night.
The private medical team from Boston General Hospital arrived at the estate under Mr. Duca’s personal order. In the spacious, sunlit master guest suite on the second floor, Grace Harper lay in a plush four-poster bed, her fever finally breaking under the care of top specialists.
Sitting beside her on the edge of the bed was her mother, Eleanor, holding Grace's hand tightly as tears of joy flowed between them.
Standing near the tall bay window, six-year-old Mia sat in a comfortable velvet armchair, happily eating a bowl of warm soup provided by the estate chef. Baby Lily sat safely on her lap, playing with a small wooden rattle.
Mr. Duca stood in the doorway, his black suit jacket removed, his crisp white shirt sleeves rolled up to his broad forearms, exposing his intricate tattoos. He held a glass of water, watching the reunited family with a quiet, profound warmth that filled his chest.
Grace looked up from her pillows, her pale rosy cheeks glowing under the warm lamp light. "Mr. Duca... I don't know how to thank you. You saved my mother... you saved my family."
Mr. Duca walked over to the bed, dropping to one knee beside the two women. "You don't thank me, Grace. You thank your daughter."
He looked over at Mia, offering the little girl a rare, genuine smile. "Mia saved this house tonight. If she hadn't come up to my study to finish your work, Eleanor would still be behind that wall."
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Mia looked up from her soup, her rosy cheeks dimpling into a sweet, proud smile. "I told you I was a good helper, Mr. Duca."
Mr. Duca let out a low, warm laugh—a sound that none of his business associates had ever heard. "You are the best helper this estate has ever seen, Mia."
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