Chapter 5 - The Green House on 4th Street
The Maybach stopped smoothly before the green house behind the laundromat.
The rain had slowed to a damp mist, leaving the cedar tree in the front yard dripping heavy drops onto the overgrown grass. The porch indeed listed slightly to the left, and a thick blue nylon rope was lashed securely from the porch pillar to the main beam of the house, holding the structure together with stubborn, improvised grace.
Colton stepped out first, holding his large umbrella over the space between the car door and the porch steps. He offered his hand to Junie, who took it without hesitation, her small fingers disappearing entirely inside his warm grasp.
“We’re home,” she announced, pushing open the squeaky screen door.
The interior of the house was immaculate despite its threadbare condition. The floors were scrubbed clean; a small, neatly patched quilt lay over an old sofa; the air smelled faintly of lavender and damp wood.
At the kitchen table sat Elena Solana.
She was seventy years old, though she looked eighty under the pale morning light. Her silver hair was braided neatly down her back, and she wore a woolen shawl wrapped tightly around her thin shoulders. A basket of mending sat beside her, but her hands were resting flat on the table, her head bowed as if she were gathering the strength for one more breath.
“Grandma?” Junie called out, slipping off her yellow jacket and dropping it neatly over the back of a wooden chair. “I brought a rescue vehicle.”
Elena raised her head slowly. Her eyes, the exact same dark, steady shade as Junie’s, fixed upon the tall, silver-haired man stepping through her front door.
Even in a faded kitchen with peeling linoleum, Colton Vale carried the unmistakable aura of power. Yet, as he looked at Elena Solana, the boardroom sharpness vanished from his eyes, replaced by something resembling profound recognition.
“Elena,” Colton said softly, his voice dropping all its professional weight.
Elena’s breath caught. She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. “Colton? Colton Vale? It can’t be.”
Junie looked back and forth between them, her small brow furrowing in deep confusion. “You know each other? You didn’t say you knew each other in the car.”
“Forty years ago,” Colton said, stepping closer to the table and pulling out a chair with quiet deference before sitting down opposite her, “Elena kept me from failing my college entrance exams by tutoring me in calculus behind the old library when I couldn’t afford textbooks.”
Elena let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh that turned into a sudden, sharp cough. She pressed a handkerchief to her mouth, her chest heaving painfully.
Colton was out of his seat in an instant, placing a steady hand on her shoulder while signaling toward the open front door.
May you like
A second later, Dr. Harrison—a senior cardiologist and private physician to Seattle’s elite—stepped into the modest kitchen carrying a heavy aluminum medical case, followed closely by Marcus holding a portable oxygen unit.
“Elena,” Colton said, his voice urgent but calm, “you’re going to let Arthur look at you now. No arguments. That’s an executive order.”
