Then Roman reached into a drawer and pulled out a small envelope.
You stiffened. “What’s that?”
“Your final paycheck from the catering company. With penalty pay. Medical reimbursement. Emotional damages. And a written apology.”
You took the envelope slowly.
Inside was a check for $85,000.
You nearly dropped it.
“This is too much.”
“It is not enough.”
“I can’t take this.”
“You earned it.”
“I earned maybe $180 for that shift.”
Roman’s eyes darkened. “You earned more when they tried to bury you.”
You stared at the check until the numbers blurred. That money could pay rent. It could cover groceries. It could keep Liam safe while you found work. It could give you time to breathe.
But it also felt like stepping deeper into Roman’s world.
He seemed to read your hesitation.
“This money did not come from me,” he said. “It came from Henderson’s company and the Heartwell estate settlement. Their lawyers wanted silence. I gave them paperwork instead.”
You looked up. “Paperwork?”
“A civil claim.”
“You sued them?”
“My attorney did.”
“Without asking me?”
His jaw tightened slightly. “No settlement is final without your signature.”
That mattered.
You hated that it mattered.
You tucked the check back into the envelope with shaking fingers. “Thank you.”
Roman’s expression changed at the words, like gratitude was something he rarely knew what to do with.
“You’re welcome,” he said quietly.
That was the night you began to stop seeing him only as danger.
