Chapter 5 - Breakfast with Traitors
By eight the next morning, Boston knew Maeve Carter’s face.
Not through police alerts or gossip blogs or whispered rumors in hotel corridors.
Through Rowan Hale himself.
He had Finley take a photograph in the townhouse dining room: Maeve seated beside Piper, both wrapped in warm sweaters borrowed from some forgotten guest room, breakfast untouched in front of them. Rowan sat at the head of the table in his wheelchair, calm as winter. Piper held the wilted flower in a tiny water glass.
The caption was simple.
Miss Carter and her daughter were guests in my home after witnessing misconduct at the Sterling Court Hotel. Any concern for their whereabouts may be directed to me.
No threats.
No explanations.
Just ownership of the situation.
In Rowan’s world, that was louder than a scream.
Maeve saw the post on Finley’s phone and nearly dropped her coffee.
“You put my daughter online?” she demanded.
“Her face is turned,” Rowan said. “No identifying details beyond your name.”
“My name is enough!”
“Yes,” Rowan said. “Because hiding you made you a target. Publicly sheltering you makes harming you a declaration.”
Maeve stared at him. “You talk like everybody else has armies.”
“They do. Some wear uniforms. Some wear money. Some wear family names.” His gaze softened slightly. “You have been fighting alone so long you forgot protection can be strategic.”
“No,” Maeve said. “I learned protection usually comes with a bill.”
Piper looked between them, chewing toast. “Are you fighting?”
“No,” Rowan said.
“Yes,” Maeve said at the same time.
Piper sighed. “Grown-ups are bad at breakfast.”
For reasons Maeve could not explain, that made Rowan laugh.
A real laugh this time. Brief. Rusted from disuse. But real.
Finley appeared in the doorway holding a folder. The laugh vanished.
“First responses are coming in,” Finley said.
Rowan turned his chair toward him. “Who panicked?”
“Calvin Mercer called Vivienne three times, then resigned from the hotel before HR opened.”
“Cowardice can be efficient.”
“August Reed has moved twelve men from the harbor to East Boston. Says it’s for a shipment delay.”
“Lie.”
“Garrett posted a photo from church.”
Rowan’s expression cooled. “Of course he did.”
Maeve frowned. “Why church?”
“Because guilty men love witnesses who confuse kneeling with innocence.”
Finley handed him the folder. “And Silas Venn surfaced.”
Maeve stiffened. “The wolf ring?”
Finley nodded. “Former private military. Now handles quiet errands for Vivienne. No official employment. Paid through shell consulting contracts.”
Rowan opened the folder.
Inside was a grainy photo of the man from the alley.
Maeve’s breath caught. “That’s him.”
Piper leaned over. “Wolf man.”
Rowan studied the image. “Where is he?”
“Disappeared after the Sterling Court. But there’s more.” Finley placed another paper on the table. “Silas Venn was in Boston the night you were shot.”
The room went still.
Maeve looked at Rowan.
His face did not change, but his hand paused over the paper.
Finley continued, “Hotel records put him two blocks from the alley. Under another name.”
Rowan said nothing.
Piper whispered, “Is he the one who hurt your legs?”
Maeve closed her eyes. “Piper, baby—”
Rowan answered before Maeve could stop him.
“I don’t know yet.”
Piper looked sad. “I hope he says sorry.”
Finley’s expression darkened.
Rowan looked at the child. “Some people are not sorry when they hurt others.”
Piper considered this. “Then they need time-out.”
Maeve almost smiled despite everything.
Rowan’s eyes met hers briefly.
The warmth lasted only a second.
Then the doorbell rang.
Finley moved.
Rowan shook his head. “Let them in.”
“Who is it?” Maeve asked.
“Breakfast,” Rowan said.
Finley opened the front door.
Garrett Hale entered first, smiling like a man arriving at a party he had not tried to ruin.
He was younger than Rowan by four years, handsome in a careless, expensive way, with blond hair, a camel coat, and eyes that looked friendly until they landed on something they wanted.
Behind him came Vivienne Hale.
Piper had described her perfectly.
White hair. Red mouth. Diamonds like ice.
She entered Rowan’s home as though she had decorated it, purchased it, and buried someone beneath the floorboards.
“Rowan,” she said warmly. “You frightened us.”
Maeve stood immediately, pulling Piper behind her.
Vivienne’s gaze slid to them. “And this must be the waitress.”
Rowan’s voice was quiet. “Her name is Maeve Carter.”
Vivienne smiled. “Of course.”
Garrett looked at Piper. “Cute kid.”
Piper hid behind Maeve’s leg.
Rowan noticed.
So did Garrett.
Finley shut the door.
The room became smaller.
Vivienne removed her gloves finger by finger. “We came because your little announcement caused concern.”
“Concern is healthy,” Rowan said.
“You brought strangers into family business.”
“No. Family business followed them into an alley.”
Garrett laughed. “Always dramatic.”
Rowan looked at him. “Always late.”
Garrett’s smile thinned.
Vivienne moved toward the table, looking at the breakfast plates, the folder, the flower in water. Her eyes paused on the flower for one fraction too long.
Maeve saw it.
So did Rowan.
Vivienne said, “A dead flower on your table. How sentimental.”
Piper stepped out before Maeve could stop her. “Gary isn’t dead. He’s resting.”
Garrett snorted.
Piper glared at him. “That’s rude.”
The room froze.
Finley looked down at the floor.
Rowan’s mouth moved once, almost a smile.
Vivienne’s eyes narrowed at the child, and in that instant Maeve saw the real woman beneath the pearls.
Cold.
Ancient.
Hungry.
Rowan wheeled closer to the table. “Why did you call Calvin Mercer last night?”
Vivienne placed her gloves beside a plate. “To prevent embarrassment.”
“Whose?”
“Yours.”
“You emptied my birthday room.”
Garrett rolled his eyes. “Maybe people were busy.”
“Thirty people?”
“Maybe you’re less loved than you thought.”
Maeve felt the cruelty of it land.
Rowan absorbed it without blinking.
Then he opened the folder and slid Silas Venn’s photograph across the table.
Vivienne did not look down.
Garrett did.
Mistake.
Rowan saw it.
“So,” Rowan said softly, “you know him.”
Garrett recovered too late. “Should I?”
Vivienne smiled. “Rowan, darling, paranoia is common after trauma.”
“And treason is common before a fall.”
The word changed the temperature of the room.
Garrett stepped forward. “Careful.”
Finley stepped too.
No one spoke.
Then Rowan looked at Maeve.
“I apologize,” he said.
Maeve frowned. “For what?”
“For what you are about to hear.”
Vivienne’s smile faltered.
Rowan turned back to his family.
“Dr. Amelia Sloane sent the original scans this morning.”
Garrett went pale.
Vivienne did not.
That was how Rowan knew.
She had expected this day.
She had planned for it.
And when she spoke, her voice was almost tender.
“My dear boy,” Vivienne said, “you should have stayed grateful that you survived.”
Piper began to cry.
Maeve lifted her daughter into her arms.
Rowan did not move.
May you like
But the Frost returned to his eyes.
“No,” he said. “I should have stayed dead.”
