Chapter 6 - A Brand New Name
The coastal wind off the Gulf of Maine was brutal, carrying the scent of salt spray and freezing rain across the cobblestone streets of Harbor Cove.
Claire Montgomery wrapped her wool coat tightly around her shoulders as she pushed open the back door of The Daily Bread, a small local bakery tucked away near the docks. The warm scent of baked yeast, cinnamon, and fresh roast coffee rushed over her, offering a temporary shield against the bitter Atlantic chill.
"Morning, Claire!" called out Clara Vance, the sixty-year-old owner, wiping down the flour-dusted marble counter. "You're early today. How's that incision feeling?"
"It’s healing well, Clara," Claire lied smoothly, offering a small, practiced smile. "Just a bit stiff in the cold."
It had been three weeks since she boarded that Greyhound bus out of Chicago. She had chosen Harbor Cove precisely because it wasn't on any map of high-society retreats or criminal shipping hubs. It was a town of fishermen, small business owners, and quiet retirees.
Claire worked the early morning shift, kneading dough and packing pastry boxes from 4:00 A.M. until noon. The repetitive physical labor gave her hands something to do, keeping her mind from spiraling into the dark abyss of her grief.
In the tiny one-bedroom apartment above a hardware store two blocks away, she had set up a small oak shelf near the window. On it sat the mahogany urn containing Leo's ashes, framed by a single white candle she lit every night before sleep.
She didn't use credit cards. She had opened no local bank accounts under her real name. The cash she brought from Chicago was hidden beneath her mattress, and Clara paid her under the table every Friday in crisp paper bills.
As Claire arranged fresh cranberry scones into the display case, the small television mounted in the corner of the bakery broadcasted the morning national news.
"...Tensions continue to rise in Chicago following what law enforcement describes as a sudden power vacuum within the city's largest private logistics firm. Reports indicate several warehouse fires along the South Side docks..."
Claire stopped mid-motion. Her hand hovered over the glass case as the screen flashed a quick, file photo of the Moretti Enterprise headquarters building.
May you like
She closed her eyes, took a slow, deep breath, and turned her back to the screen.
Damian’s world of violence and power no longer belonged to her. He had his empire, his armed men, and the life he chose in Capri. She had her quiet bakery, the ocean wind, and her memory of a twelve-hour son.
