Chapter 8 - The Power of Attorney
Twenty-four hours later, the grand estate was transformed.
The rain had finally passed, replaced by brilliant, golden autumn sunshine that streamed through the towering French windows, illuminating the dark mahogany halls that had felt like a tomb for so long. The private security team had been completely purged; only men whose loyalty to the Caruso family had been proven over thirty years were permitted past the iron gates.
In the master dining room, the massive banquet table—which had rarely seen anything more than formal, tense business meetings—was covered in a bright red gingham tablecloth.
Anthony sat at the head of the table, his broken ribs tightly bound in medical tape under a clean, crisp white linen shirt. A private doctor had patched his wounds and treated his dehydration, but the exhaustion still lingered around his dark eyes. Yet, for the first time in his adult life, there was genuine peace on his face.
Sitting to his right was Daisy, perched atop two thick leather dictionaries so she could reach the table. She was happily smearing strawberry jam across a warm croissant, completely unfazed by the whirlwind of events that had turned New York’s underworld upside down.
Maria sat across from Anthony, wearing a simple, elegant emerald-green sweater he had asked Samuel to purchase for her that morning. She looked breathtaking, though she still seemed slightly uneasy sitting at the grand table rather than serving it.
""Anthony, this isn't right,"" Maria said softly, her cheeks blushing slightly as Samuel poured fresh orange juice into her crystal glass. ""I should be in the kitchen. I work here.""
Anthony reached across the table and placed his warm, scarred hand over hers. His touch was gentle, firm, and filled with an unspoken intensity that made Maria’s heart skip a beat.
""You will never work as a maid in this house again, Maria,"" Anthony said, his tone leaving no room for argument. ""That life ended the second you decided to risk your life to feed me in that cellar.""
The heavy oak doors opened, and Marcus Vance, Anthony’s personal high-powered Manhattan attorney, walked into the room carrying a thick leather briefcase. Vance was a man accustomed to dealing with Fortune 500 mergers and ruthless litigation, but today he looked thoroughly bewildered.
""Mr. Caruso,"" Vance cleared his throat, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. ""I’ve reviewed the emergency filings you instructed me to prepare. Legally speaking, this is... unprecedented. Are you absolutely certain you want to proceed with this restructuring?""
""Every single word, Marcus,"" Anthony replied without hesitation. ""Read it aloud so Daisy knows she got a fair deal.""
Vance blinked, cleared his throat again, and opened the manila folder. ""Pursuant to the emergency provisions executed yesterday, Anthony Caruso has officially transferred forty-nine percent of the non-voting equity in Caruso Maritime, Caruso Real Estate Holdings, and all subsidiary logistics corporations into an irrevocable blind trust.""
Maria stared at the lawyer, her fork freezing halfway to her plate. ""A... trust?""
""Yes, Mrs. Bennett,"" Vance continued solemnly. ""The sole beneficiary of this trust is Miss Daisy Bennett. The trust will fully mature on her twenty-fifth birthday, with an estimated initial valuation of approximately four hundred and twenty million dollars.""
Maria gasped, knocking her orange juice glass over. ""Four hundred... Anthony, no! That's insane! That's too much money! We can't accept that!""
""That's not all,"" Vance added, glancing nervously at Anthony. ""The executive trustee appointed to manage Miss Bennett's educational, residential, and personal welfare until her majority is her mother, Maria Bennett, who will draw an annual management stipend of five hundred thousand dollars, effective immediately.""
Maria buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with fresh tears. ""Anthony... why would you do this? We just gave you some soup and water. Any human being would have done that.""
""Nobody else did,"" Anthony whispered, his eyes locked onto hers with fierce devotion. ""My own blood tried to bury me alive. The people I paid millions to protect me ran away or switched sides. You and your daughter were the only ones who saw a dying man and chose to save him. Daisy told me I owed her my life. In my world, when Caruso owes a debt, he pays it in full.""
Daisy looked up from her croissant, wiping a smear of red jam from her chin with the back of her sleeve. She reached into Biscuit’s torn ear and pulled out the crumpled grocery receipt with the purple crayon drawing.
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""Here, Mister Anthony,"" Daisy chirped, sliding the paper across the table to him. ""You paid the cookie ticket. Now you don't have to go back in the timeout cage.""
Anthony picked up the receipt, folding it with immense reverence, and slipped it directly into the breast pocket of his shirt, right against his beating heart. ""I’m keeping this forever, Boss.""
