Chapter 44
BELLE
It had been a week since the hill. Since the storm. Since everything almost fell apart, we put it back together.
A week since I said I loved him out loud. A week since he handed me a company and a hotel like they were just . . . pieces on a board he could move around.
I still wasn’t entirely sure how to process that.
The hotel remained mostly abstract. It was still run by the Renault Group, systems and management already in place, moving like a well-oiled machine that I didn’t need to interfere with yet.
But Merry Band of Maids, that was real, and that was mine.
And I wasn’t going to just let it sit.
I had spent too long working in spaces where people like me were replaceable. Where cleaners were invisible. Where the work was necessary, but the people doing it were treated like an afterthought.
Not anymore.
If it were mine, then I got to decide what it looked like.
So I changed it. I was restructuring it into a co-op.
It had taken a few long conversations, some confusion, and a lot of skepticism, but once the women understood what I was offering, something shifted.
There was ownership and profit sharing. But there were also benefits, insurance, and schedules that didn’t break people. It wasn’t charity. It was equity.
And for the first time, the business felt . . . right.
Tripp, unsurprisingly, did not land on his feet.
It would seem like once his son’s antics jeopardized a business contact as important as the Renault Group, he was done fixing his messes.
I didn’t love the fact that if it hadn’t been for Raph, we all would still be in the same boat.
But as the women who worked there began to understand what this meant for them, it mattered less and less.
And then the rest came out. Other women. Other stories.
It was like something ugly had finally been dragged into the light.
But that wasn’t the only thing I found. The numbers didn’t line up. At first, it was small. A name here. A check there. Employees who technically existed on paper but didn’t show up on any active schedules.
I thought it was a bookkeeping error.
Then I thought it was sloppy management.
I showed the discrepancies to Raph, and he slid his glasses down his nose, looking at all of it. I loved it when he had his glasses on and his sleeves rolled up, even if it did make it hard to focus.
“Was he stealing?” I had asked Raph, sitting across from him with the reports spread out between us.
He had glanced at the numbers once.
Then looked at me. “It looks like embezzlement,” he corrected.
He didn’t hesitate. He reported it. No sweeping it under the rug.
And just like that, it was another mess that was no longer mine to carry alone.
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the spreadsheets again. A week ago, I had been worried about making rent. Now I was restructuring a company. My company. It was surreal.
And for the first time, I was building something. The house felt full in a way it hadn’t before. Dad sat at the table, a plate of half-finished dinner in front of him, hands moving as he talked through some idea that made perfect sense to him and just enough sense to the rest of us to follow along.
Raph sat across from him, listening. Actually listening.
It still caught me off guard sometimes.
“How is the business progressing?” Raph asked, turning his attention to me.
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a small breath.
“Good,” I said. “Chandler’s been helping me with the legal side. Paperwork, structure, all the stuff that makes my brain want to melt.”
Raph’s mouth twitched slightly.
“He is effective in that regard.”
“He is,” I agreed. “But . . . I’m happy with the progress we are making.”
That felt bigger than it should have.
“I think this is going to work,” I continued. “Like really work. Not just for me, but for all of them.” The women. The ones who had been invisible. “Good pay. Benefits. Ownership . . . ” I shook my head slightly. “This will change lives.”
Raph studied me quietly. Like that mattered to him. Like I mattered to him.
Dad set his fork down and looked at me, his expression suddenly clear.
“I’m proud of you, Bells,” he said.
The words hit harder than they should have.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said softly.
He nodded, satisfied, then glanced at the clock.
“Well,” he said, pushing back from the table, “I’ve got to get to bed. Work in the morning.”
I swallowed a smile.
“Of course you do.”
His nurse, who was already a quiet, steady part of the rhythm of the house, stepped forward.
“Let’s get you settled,” she said gently.
He went without argument.
I watched them disappear down the hall, something warm settling in my chest.
This was what I had wanted. I had found stability, safety, and care for both of us.
I felt Raph move before I looked at him. His hand brushed mine on the table.
“I have to say. You’ve inspired me,” he said quietly.
“Oh yeah, how so?” I replied.
“There were so many things I thought I understood before I met you. It is hard to admit, but I was still so blinded by my privilege. I was talking to Chandler today about possibly implementing some of the things you’ve been working on across all of Renault Properties?"
“Really?”
He nodded. “I have all I need right here. I might as well share the wealth. It is in the beginning stages, but you are changing lives, Ma Belle.”
I reached across the table, taking his hand. “See, you're not such a beast after all.”
“I don’t know, I think you like it when I’m a beast.”
I smiled because he was right. I loved when he was beastly.
We didn’t rush upstairs.
Instead, we migrated to the living room as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
I curled into the corner of the couch.
He sat beside me, close enough that our legs touched.
“Gummy?” I asked, pulling one from the little container on the coffee table.
He glanced at it. Then at me. “You are a corrupting influence.”
“You love it.”
A beat. Then he took it. We both did. It was a small, shared rebellion against the intensity of the past week.
The TV flickered to life. Some terrible reality show neither of us actually cared about filled the room with dramatic music and questionable life choices.
I laughed softly as someone onscreen made a truly terrible decision. “This is awful.”
“It is,” he agreed.
Neither of us changed it. His arm slid along the back of the couch, then around my shoulders, pulling me closer without asking.
I went without hesitation. My head settled against him. His hand rested warm against my arm.
The storm was in our past. This felt like something else entirely. This felt steady and real. It was something I could build inside of instead of constantly bracing against.
I let out a slow breath, sinking into him.
This life that still didn’t feel entirely like mine—but didn’t feel impossible anymore either.
I could get used to this.
That thought didn’t scare me anymore.