Chapter 3 - The Debt Paid by a Dead Woman
Erin Donnelly looked nothing like Maeve except around the eyes.
At twenty-one, she was softer, quieter, and far less interested in pretending fear did not exist.
She was halfway through dialysis when Maeve entered Saint Alder Renal Center.
“You’re supposed to be at the murder mansion.”
Maeve stopped.
“Who called it that?”
“You.”
“Fair.”
Erin saw Roman behind her.
Then Declan.
Then Gabriel.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
Maeve turned.
“I said wait outside.”
Roman answered, “The clinic director asked to meet us.”
“You could have told me.”
“You were walking.”
“That sentence makes no sense.”
Erin whispered, “Are they always like this?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel said, “She has known us three days.”
“Long enough.”
Roman almost smiled.
Dr. Calvin Marsh, the clinic director, entered carrying a thin file.
He recognized the Falcone brothers immediately.
His face changed.
Roman noticed.
“Problem?”
“No.”
Roman waited.
Dr. Marsh corrected himself.
“I did not expect all three of you.”
Maeve hated the way people became careful around them.
It made truth harder.
She moved between the brothers and the doctor.
“Talk to me.”
Marsh looked relieved.
“Your sister’s account has unusual history.”
Erin frowned.
“What history?”
“For years, most of your treatment costs were covered through a private patient-relief grant.”
Maeve stared.
“We never applied for that.”
“The grant predated Erin’s diagnosis.”
That made no sense.
Erin was diagnosed three years ago.
“How?”
Marsh opened the file.
“The Donnelly family had standing eligibility under a legacy fund.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Sofia’s trust.”
Marsh looked at him.
“I don’t know the origin.”
Maeve said, “When did payments stop?”
“Seven months ago.”
Seven months.
That was when Maeve’s debts began accelerating.
The twelve thousand dollars Gabriel had found was recent.
“What changed?”
Marsh looked uncomfortable.
“The fund administrator required renewed eligibility certification.”
“Who was the administrator?”
“Saint Alder Patient Relief.”
Roman’s voice went cold.
“Vittorio Falcone.”
Marsh did not answer.
He did not need to.
Maeve looked at Erin.
“Did anyone contact you?”
Erin’s face changed.
“One man.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“What man?”
“He said he was from a charity.”
Roman stepped closer.
“What did he ask?”
Erin looked at Maeve.
“About Mom.”
Maeve’s stomach dropped.
“What about her?”
“He wanted to know whether she left us any papers.”
Silence.
Maeve moved closer to the dialysis chair.
“You never told me.”
“You were already working two jobs.”
“That is not a reason.”
“I thought it was just charity paperwork.”
“What papers?”
“Letters. Old photos. Keys.”
Roman asked, “Did he give a name?”
Erin thought.
“Mr. Vale.”
Gabriel swore.
Maeve looked at him.
“Who?”
“Elliot Vale. Uncle Vittorio’s private investigator.”
The room became very quiet.
Erin’s eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
Maeve immediately regretted her tone.
“No.”
She took her sister’s hand.
“You did nothing wrong.”
Roman watched her say it.
Something about the sentence reached him.
Maybe because no one had said it to him after his mother died.
No one had told three fourteen-year-old boys that adults had failed them.
Instead, they had been handed a suspect.
Kathleen.
Maeve’s mother.
A simple villain.
A closed story.
Roman looked at Marsh.
“Restore the grant.”
Maeve turned.
“No.”
Everyone looked at her.
Roman frowned.
“The money was meant for your family.”
“Then prove it legally.”
“We have the trust.”
“We have a phone call.”
“Helena has documents.”
“Then let Helena fix it.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“Erin needs treatment now.”
“She is receiving treatment.”
“With debt.”
“Yes.”
He looked almost angry.
“Why are you fighting help?”
Maeve stepped closer.
“Because yesterday you offered me fifty thousand dollars in a drawer as a test.”
He stopped.
“You taught me money from you comes with questions.”
The truth hit harder than accusation.
Roman looked away.
Maeve continued.
“I will take what belongs to us. I will not take whatever you decide we deserve today.”
Erin whispered, “I love when she does this to rich people.”
Gabriel looked impressed.
Declan smiled openly.
Roman rubbed his jaw.
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“We do it through counsel.”
“Yes.”
“And until then, the clinic bills no collection activity.”
Marsh said quickly, “We can arrange a hold.”
Maeve nodded.
“Thank you.”
That mattered.
A hold.
Not salvation.
A procedure.
Something ordinary.
Something she could trust.
As they left, Erin called Maeve back.
“I forgot something.”
Maeve turned.
“Mr. Vale gave me an envelope.”
All three brothers stopped.
“What envelope?”
“I didn’t open it.”
“Where is it?”
“At home.”
Roman said, “We go together.”
Maeve looked at him.
He corrected himself.
“Would you like us to come?”
Declan stared at him.
Gabriel looked delighted.
Maeve almost smiled.
“Yes.”
The envelope was hidden inside Erin’s college textbook.
Plain white.
No return address.
Inside was one photograph.
Kathleen Donnelly and Sofia Falcone standing in the manor kitchen.
Between them sat the biscuit tin.
On the back, in Kathleen’s handwriting:
IF THEY EVER COME LOOKING, TELL MAEVE THE FOURTH CHAIR WAS NEVER EMPTY.
Maeve read it twice.
“What fourth chair?”
Roman sat down hard.
Declan looked toward Gabriel.
Gabriel whispered, “Sunday breakfast.”
Maeve stared.
Roman’s voice was barely audible.
“Our mother always set four chairs for the three of us.”
“Who was the fourth for?”
May you like
He looked at the photograph.
“We never knew.”
