Chapter 5 - The Gift from Queens
Two weeks after the boardroom victory, the storm had finally cleared from the city.
Julian Vance was forced into early retirement, Vance Financial was absorbed into the Kane empire, and Vivienne Kane remained isolated in the northern Maine compound, stripped of her corporate voting power and forbidden from entering New York without Roman’s written permission.
On a warm, crisp November afternoon, a sleek black sedan pulled up to a small, two-story brick building on 82nd Street in Queens.
The neighborhood smelled of fresh rain, roasted coffee, and the familiar, comforting hum of city traffic. Kids were playing on the sidewalks, and the old ladies were chatting on their front stoops.
Roman stepped out of the car, wearing a simple navy sweater and dark jeans—a rare, relaxed look that made him look younger and softer. He walked around to open my door, gently helping me step out onto the pavement.
"Are you sure you want to do this today?" Roman asked, looking up at the faded sign above the discount pharmacy. "You're thirty-nine weeks pregnant, Bianca. You could go into labor any minute."
"I am completely sure," I smiled, wrapping my arm through his.
We walked around the side of the building into the narrow brick alleyway. It was the exact alley where, two years ago, I had found a bleeding man leaning against the dumpster, holding a gun, refusing an ambulance.
The alley was no longer filthy. The trash cans were gone, replaced by fresh paint on the brick walls, new security lighting, and a beautiful bronze plaque mounted near the back door of the restaurant.
The plaque read:
The Bellafonte Community Center & Culinary School Founded by Bianca Miller-Kane Dedicated to the mothers and daughters of Queens.
My mother stood by the back door, wearing a lovely floral dress and a warm cardigan, her face beaming with tears of pure pride as she saw us walking toward her.
"Look at you two," my mother cried, pulling me into a warm, tight hug, being careful of my massive stomach. "Look at my beautiful girl!"
She reached up, gently touching my short pixie cut, her eyes filled with fierce, protective love. "I heard what happened with his mother, Bianca. You showed her what Queens women are made of."
"I learned from the best, Mom," I smiled, kissing her cheek.
Roman stepped forward, extending his hand to my mother with genuine, deep respect—a man who commanded billions, humbling himself before a woman who had worked double shifts to raise the girl who saved his life.
"Thank you for letting us build this here, Mrs. Miller," Roman said softly. "This neighborhood gave me my wife. It's the least the Kane family can do to pay our debt."
My mother smiled warmly, patting Roman’s cheek. "You're a good boy, Roman. Just keep taking care of my girl."
Suddenly, a sharp, sudden pain flared across my lower back, sending a short gasp through my lips. I gripped Roman’s arm tightly, my knuckles turning white.
May you like
Roman’s entire demeanor shifted into instant, hyper-alert panic. "Bianca? What is it? Is it a contraction?"
I leaned into him, taking a deep, slow breath as the pain passed, a joyous, breathless laugh escaping my lips. "Roman... I think your daughter is ready to meet her city."
