Chapter 6 - The Council of Three Harbors
Silence returned to the grand dining salon, vast, clean, and terrifyingly pure.
The forty syndicate commanders remained standing, their heads bowed in deep, absolute respect.
Don Arthur Vance slowly raised his right hand from the wheelchair.
He looked down the table at the hardened killers who had ruled the Eastern Seaboard for half a century.
“My son... Julian... is the sole... Don of this house,” the old man declared, his voice growing stronger with every breath, echoing off the high limestone walls. “His word... is my law. His honor... is our shield.”
Julian walked to the head of the table.
He stopped beside his father’s chair, resting his hand respectfully on Arthur’s shoulder.
Then he turned his dark, soulful gray eyes directly onto me.
He reached down, taking my hand into his massive, warm palm, gently lifting me until I stood beside him on the raised marble dais before the entire assembly of New York, Boston, and Providence commanders.
“Clara Ward,” Julian said, his deep baritone carrying clearly to every soul in the room.
“Yes, Mr. Vance?” I whispered, my heart hammering against my ribs.
“You stood in this room when my own fiancée ordered you to hide my father in the dark. You took away the poison that was stealing his mind. You heard my son’s cries when forty armed men were deaf.”
He looked down at my simple gray scrub dress, then up into my eyes with an intensity that took the breath straight out of my chest.
“In this house, Clara,” Julian murmured, his voice thick with profound, unwavering sincerity, “courage is paid in gold, and loyalty is answered with an empire. You will never clean a dispensary or fear an eviction notice again.”
He looked toward his chief of operations standing by the terrace doors.
“Frank.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Call the Cook County Chancery Court and the directors of Massachusetts General Hospital. The mortgage on Clara Ward’s family home is purchased and canceled tonight, registered in her mother's name in perpetuity. And fund Clara’s personal account with ten million dollars as an executive trustee retainer.”
My knees gave out. A gasp of pure, disbelieving shock tore from my throat, and I would have hit the floor if Julian’s strong, unyielding arm hadn't wrapped around my waist, lifting me effortlessly against his solid, broad chest.
“Mr. Vance... no... ten million dollars? The medical clinic?” I wept, pressing my trembling hands against my mouth. “I was only doing my duty!”
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“You saved my father’s life, Clara,” Julian whispered into my hair, his thumb gently smoothing over my temple with breathtaking tenderness. “You brought my son back from the dark water. My family owes you a debt that forty million dollars could never settle.”
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