Chapter 3 - THE UNFORGOTTEN ACCUSATION
The name Russo sent a chill straight down my spine.
Five years ago, before Maisie was born, I worked as a maid in the grand Russo estate in Chestnut Hill. I was young, quiet, and desperately trying to earn enough money to care for my sick mother. Then came the night of the missing emerald necklace—an heirloom worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.
It had been planted in my coat pocket.
Uncle Victor Russo had confronted me in the study. I remembered his cold eyes, his threatening whisper: If you ever open your mouth or try to return to this city, I will make sure you and your family vanish.
I was fired on the spot, terrified, stripped of my dignity, and driven out. Two months later, I discovered I was pregnant with Maisie. My mother passed away short after, and I had spent the last five years living like a ghost in the shadows of South Philadelphia, working odd jobs to stay alive.
"I remember the Russos," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I don't owe your family anything. And I didn't take that necklace."
"I know," Damian said smoothly, pulling a chair closer to my bed and sitting down. "My mother told me you didn't."
I stared at him, stunned. "Your mother?"
"Rosa Russo," he replied. "Before she died, she told me Uncle Victor framed you. She knew the truth, but Victor kept her isolated. I spent years looking for answers after Victor died, but your files were completely erased from our security records."
Maisie sat on the edge of my bed, swinging her little legs, completely unaware of the heavy history hanging in the air.
"Why are you here now, Mr. Russo?" I asked guardedly.
"Because the Russo family owes you a debt," Damian said, his dark eyes locking onto mine with unwavering focus. "And because no child should have to sell four-dollar carnations in the rain to save her mother's life."
He stood up, adjusted his coat, and looked at his bodyguard.
"Call Dr. Mercer. Tell him Clara Vance is being transferred to the Private VIP Surgical Suite immediately. Bring in the top cardiothoracic team in the state."
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"Wait!" I panicked. "I can't afford that!"
Damian looked at me, a faint, almost imperceptible soften in his gaze. "You aren't paying a single cent, Clara. Consider it interest on a five-year-old debt."
