Chapter 16 - The Harbor Crown Trap
For three weeks, Damian’s world collapsed publicly.
Federal investigators froze accounts connected to Harbor Meridian.
Three Cross executives resigned.
Two newspapers published photographs of him beside men later convicted of federal crimes.
Television commentators debated whether Damian Cross was a businessman, organized-crime figure, victim of family corruption, or all three.
Damian did something nobody expected.
He cooperated.
Fully.
He surrendered records.
Closed questionable subsidiaries.
Removed executives tied to Roman.
Sold properties connected to illegal operations.
The clean portions of Cross Holdings survived.
Barely.
Crosswell remained open.
That mattered more to me than the stock price.
I returned to work.
Green scrubs.
White sneakers.
Hair pinned up.
The first morning Damian saw me again, he stood in the clinic lobby and stared.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That sounded like something.”
His eyes moved over the scrubs.
“I liked the dress.”
I walked past him.
“I’m aware.”
He followed.
“You could occasionally dress like that here.”
“I am not performing a neurological examination in silk.”
“Disappointing.”
Nora nearly dropped her clipboard.
Damian Cross was flirting.
Poorly.
But undeniably.
The federal investigation uncovered enough evidence to charge Roman with financial fraud, kidnapping conspiracy, illegal trafficking, obstruction, and multiple other crimes.
The Michael case remained complicated.
Anthony accepted responsibility for destroying the warehouse evidence.
Roman’s deliberate diversion of emergency responders was being investigated in connection with Michael’s death.
Julian entered witness protection temporarily with Sophie.
Margaret moved to Maine.
Mercer vanished from Boston’s social scene after giving investigators a mountain of records that conveniently blamed everyone except himself.
Typical.
One evening, Damian came to Crosswell after closing.
He found me in Room Seven.
The old bed had been removed.
We planned to turn the room into a consultation suite.
“You keep coming back here,” he said.
“So do you.”
He leaned against the door.
“I signed the clinic expansion today.”
I looked up.
“You did?”
“Trauma unit first.”
A smile spread across my face.
He watched it as though he had done something far more impressive than authorize construction.
“When?”
“January.”
“Damian.”
“What?”
I hugged him.
It happened before I thought.
His entire body went still.
That was funny enough that I started laughing.
“You’ve faced federal investigators with more confidence than this.”
“I wasn’t expecting you to do that.”
“Should I stop?”
His arms closed around me.
“No.”
One word.
Very quiet.
I rested my cheek against his chest.
His heartbeat was fast.
Interesting.
“You know,” I said, “your pulse is elevated.”
“Don’t diagnose me.”
“It’s literally my profession.”
“Mara.”
I tilted my head.
He looked down.
The moment changed.
Three weeks of tension.
Fear.
Almost saying things.
Not saying things.
His hand lifted to my cheek.
This time, he didn’t stop.
“Tell me no.”
I whispered, “Why would I do that?”
He kissed me.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Nothing like the man newspapers described.
When we separated, he rested his forehead against mine.
“I’ve been trying not to do that since the red dress.”
“That long?”
“Seventy-two extremely irritating hours before Roman ruined everything.”
I laughed.
Then the clinic alarm sounded.
We both closed our eyes.
“You have terrible timing,” he muttered.
Security called.
A package had been delivered.
No return address.
Inside was one remaining copy of Michael’s notebook.
On the final page were words none of us had seen.
Damian, if you ever find this, don’t become Dad. Don’t become Anthony. Don’t become me. Build something none of us knew how to build—a life you don’t need to lie about.
Damian read it twice.
Then handed it to me.
I looked at him.
“What are you going to do?”
He glanced around Crosswell.
“Listen.”
It should have ended there.
But two days later, Roman escaped federal transport during a staged medical emergency.
And every peaceful thing we had started building was suddenly at risk again.
Roman didn’t run from Boston.
He came back for Damian.
May you like
And this time, he had nothing left to lose.
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