Chapter 13 - Thirty Days
On the twenty-ninth day of my thirty-day trial, Elena fired me.
I stared at her.
“You’re firing me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You’re terrible at this job.”
I looked around her sunroom.
Medication organized.
Appointments scheduled.
Physical therapy arranged.
Three doctors terrified of being late because I called them personally.
“I am excellent at this job.”
“You argue.”
“You like that.”
“You reorganized my kitchen.”
“You couldn’t reach the tea.”
“You threw away my cigarettes.”
“You’re not supposed to smoke.”
“They were decorative.”
“They were open.”
“Details.”
I crossed my arms.
“What is this about?”
Elena smiled.
“You no longer need the job.”
“That isn’t your decision.”
“No.”
“But the job you actually need does not exist yet.”
I frowned.
“What job?”
She handed me a folder.
THE GABRIEL REYES COMMUNITY JUSTICE FUND.
I stopped breathing.
“What is this?”
“Northstar victim compensation will take time.”
“Government systems always do.”
“So I am creating a private fund.”
“Legal assistance.”
“Medical care.”
“Housing support.”
“Emergency grants.”
“For victims and families affected by Northstar.”
My father’s name sat at the top.
My eyes filled.
“No.”
Elena blinked.
“No?”
“He would hate that.”
“Why?”
“He hated attention.”
“Then what name?”
I thought.
Then smiled.
“The Open Door Fund.”
“Why?”
“My father always said if you can’t fix someone’s whole life, at least hold the door open long enough for them to walk through.”
Elena smiled.
“Open Door.”
“I like it.”
She turned the page.
Executive Director.
Sofia Reyes.
I stared.
“You’re serious?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have a degree.”
“You left college because your family needed money.”
“That isn’t the same as being qualified.”
“You have managed a household under medical debt.”
“Negotiated hospital billing.”
“Coordinated care.”
“Worked multiple jobs.”
“Identified financial fraud.”
“Survived kidnapping attempts.”
“And told Damian Volkov no approximately six hundred times.”
She leaned closer.
“I consider you unusually qualified.”
I laughed.
Then cried.
Again.
This family was ruining my reputation.
“What salary?”
I asked.
Elena looked delighted.
“Now you sound qualified.”
The salary was more than I ever imagined earning.
Not ridiculous.
Real.
Professional.
The fund would have an independent board.
Audits.
Transparency.
No Volkov control.
That part was my condition.
Elena agreed immediately.
Damian did not know she offered me the role.
That also delighted her.
“You enjoy manipulating your son.”
“It is a mother’s privilege.”
“Pretty sure it isn’t.”
That evening, Damian took me to dinner.
Not a gala.
Not a private club.
A small Italian restaurant in Queens.
He had somehow discovered it was my father’s favorite.
That should have felt invasive.
It didn’t.
Not anymore.
We sat in a corner booth.
No bodyguards visible.
Though I knew two were outside.
Damian looked uncomfortable.
“What?”
I asked.
“I don’t do this often.”
“Eat pasta?”
“Dates.”
I smiled.
“This is a date?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t say.”
“I thought it was obvious.”
“You picked me up in an armored SUV.”
“That is normal for me.”
“Exactly.”
He sighed.
“Would you like to leave and begin again?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He looked relieved.
It was charming.
I hated that too.
Dinner was almost normal.
We talked about nothing.
Movies.
Food.
Marco’s terrible music.
Elena’s refusal to follow medical advice.
Then Damian asked.
“What happens tomorrow?”
“My contract ends.”
“I know.”
“And?”
“And Elena fired me.”
His fork stopped.
“She what?”
I laughed.
“She offered me another job.”
He listened while I explained the Open Door Fund.
He did not interrupt.
At the end, he said.
“You should do it.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t want me working for your mother?”
“I never wanted you trapped by a job.”
I looked at him.
“What do you want?”
He smiled slightly.
“You keep asking that.”
“Good habit.”
“Yes.”
He reached across the table.
Palm up.
Not grabbing.
Offering.
“I want dinner.”
“Tonight?”
“Many nights.”
I placed my hand in his.
“That was almost romantic.”
“I have advisors.”
“I knew it.”
He laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
“Sofia.”
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens between us cannot be a debt.”
My chest tightened.
“I paid your mother’s medical costs because I promised compensation for the job.”
“Your apartment lease is covered because my family’s conflict put you in danger.”
“Those things remain even if you walk away from me tomorrow.”
I stared at him.
“Thank you.”
“I need you to know that.”
“I do.”
“I don’t want gratitude confused with affection.”
“It isn’t.”
His thumb moved over my knuckles.
“Good.”
Then I leaned forward.
“Kiss me.”
For once, Damian Volkov looked surprised.
“Here?”
“No.”
“In Nevada.”
His mouth curved.
Then he kissed me.
Soft.
Careful.
No audience mattered.
No power.
No deal.
Just choice.
It lasted maybe ten seconds.
My phone rang.
Marco.
I groaned.
Damian leaned back.
“Answer.”
“I’m going to sell him.”
“You’d get very little.”
I answered.
“What?”
Marco sounded strange.
“Sofia.”
“What happened?”
“Mom wants you.”
I stood.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s awake.”
“But the doctor says you need to come.”
Everything warm disappeared.
We reached the hospital in twenty minutes.
My mother had developed a serious respiratory infection.
Her doctors had warned us this was possible.
Her body was weak.
Treatment options existed.
No promises.
I sat beside her all night.
Damian stayed outside the room.
He did not intrude.
At three in the morning, my mother opened her eyes.
“You kissed him.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Elena told me.”
“I’m changing hospitals.”
She laughed weakly.
Then coughed.
“Sofia.”
“Yes?”
“Do not make suffering your identity.”
I looked away.
“What does that mean?”
“You know how to survive.”
“You learned too young.”
“But surviving is not living.”
“Mama.”
“Listen.”
Her hand found mine.
“Your father did not die so you could spend your entire life proving you can carry everything.”
My throat closed.
“Let people carry you sometimes.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Learn.”
Her eyes closed.
“I learned fear.”
“You can learn that too.”
I stayed until morning.
My mother stabilized.
Not recovered.
But stable.
When I left the room, Damian was asleep in a chair.
Head back.
Arms crossed.
For the first time, I saw him without control.
Just tired.
Just there.
My mother’s words returned.
Let people carry you sometimes.
I sat beside him.
Rested my head against his shoulder.
He woke immediately.
Then relaxed when he saw me.
“How is she?”
“Stable.”
He exhaled.
“Good.”
I closed my eyes.
“Can we sit here?”
“As long as you want.”
So we did.
No mafia.
No money.
No danger.
May you like
Just two exhausted people in a hospital corridor.
And for the first time in years, I let someone else stay awake with me.
