Chapter 19: Fortune Inn - The Confession
1741 Words
The next day.
The moment Clara Hayes heard from Shawn that Elliot was heading back to Federal Cross, she couldn’t help but laugh.
Shawn, seeing her laugh, thought she was relieved—relieved that her cold and aloof boss was finally leaving. After all, with him gone, she wouldn’t have to keep tiptoeing around anymore.
“You can let the others know,” he said. “We’re leaving tomorrow. Lunch together, then drinks at The Rusty Anchor in the evening.”
Clara nodded, saying she’d post it in the group chat.
After hitting send, she made her way to the linen room. She began sorting out towels and toiletries, making sure everything was stocked and folded to her liking. Then she grabbed her little folding stool, tucked herself into a quiet corner, put on her headphones, and cranked up the volume of her favorite playlist.
As fate would have it, after a dozen loops of Wildest Dreams, Lena Cole video-called her.
Lena’s face lit up the screen with pure excitement.
“Daniel Shaw’s wedding’s been postponed! Indefinitely!” she announced, practically bouncing.
Clara, however, looked completely unbothered.
“You could at least pretend to be happy,” Lena said, confused. “You’re not even smiling.”
Clara chuckled. “What’s there to be happy about? I was hoping he’d get married as soon as possible. Once he settles down and has kids, I can finally go back to Crestwood to visit my mom and my little brother.”
“You think he postponed the wedding… because of you?”
“He’s not the kind of man who lets a woman pull his strings.”
“Then why the delay?”
Clara shook her head. “Let’s not talk about him. When are you coming to Willowbrook next month?”
Lena could tell she didn’t want to go any further down that road. “How about the beginning of the month?”
It was already the 29th today.
“Thank you, Lena.” Clara’s voice softened—she knew her friend was rushing over because she’d sensed something was off lately.
“Don’t get all emotional on me now,” Lena teased, giving her a look. “Anyway, tell the grannies I’m coming and to prep extra mushrooms. I’m planning to eat through their entire stash this time.”
Clara laughed. “Empty their pantry. Got it.”
Just then, a voice called from downstairs.
“Fortune, there’s a guest!”
Clara waved at Lena. “Duty calls.”
“Go,” Lena smiled. “I’m booking my tickets now.”
...
Clara stepped out of the linen room and saw Elliot Vance coming down the stairs.
She didn’t hold grudges—not even overnight ones. So she greeted him like she always did, as if nothing had happened.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Vance.”
He turned his head at the sound of her voice. The smile on her face told him she’d regained her composure. Without a word, he held out his car keys.
“The suitcase in the lounge—have Abbot load it into the car.”
“Shawn said you’re leaving tomorrow.”
“He is.”
Clara didn’t press further. She took the keys and headed downstairs.
After handing them to Abbot, she glanced over and noticed Elliot and Shawn standing in the smoking area, talking quietly. She returned to her duties, checking in a new guest, and by the time she looked back, the two men were gone.
About twenty minutes later, Shawn and Abbot returned.
“He didn’t even wait for me to leave together. No idea what goes on in that man’s head,” Shawn muttered, handing Clara a keycard. “Get the third-floor room ready. I’m moving in tonight.”
“Why not stay a few more days?” Clara suggested, swiping the keycard to check room status. “Mr. Vance paid for a full month. He didn’t cancel the room—still got ten days left.”
“You didn’t see the look on your boss’s face. If I show up one day late, he’ll probably skin me alive.”
As Abbot approached, Shawn stopped short of saying Elliot was the actual owner of Fortune Inn.
It was better if Clara was the only one who knew—for everyone’s sake.
After lunch, Shawn moved into the third-floor suite. Clara brought him afternoon tea and was invited to join him on the terrace for a chat.
As they talked, snow began to fall again.
“It’s snowing,” Clara smiled, extending her hand into the gentle flurry. “And such lovely snow, too.”
“I thought you hated snowy days?” Shawn asked, watching her.
She had moved to Vermont because she believed in the promise of “eternal spring.”
It wasn’t until she arrived that she realized how vast Vermont really was—towns like Shangri-La, Frostvale, and Greenwood Valley were all at higher elevations, where snow was more rule than exception in winter.
“I like it now that there’s underfloor heating,” she said with a laugh, popping a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth, her smile radiant against the pale sky.
Watching her laugh, Shawn shifted his chair closer—close enough that their shoulders brushed.
“Federal Cross has heating too,” he said casually. “And snow. Lots of it. In winter, the lakes freeze thick enough to skate on—I used to go every year with Elliot. And when the palace grounds are covered in snow, it feels like stepping into a storybook. Afterward, we’d hit up old town for hotpot.”
Clara seemed absorbed in the imagery.
Shawn took a breath, gathering his courage, and changed the subject abruptly.
“Come with me to Federal Cross, Fortune.”
She blinked, startled.
“I know you won’t stay in Willowbrook forever. You won’t even tell me your real name. If I don’t leave with you now, who knows if I’ll ever see you again.”
He pulled a red box from his coat pocket.
Clara’s heart stopped. She could guess what was inside. She stood quickly.
But Shawn grabbed her hand before she could bolt, firm and fast. He wasn’t letting her run.
“I knew you’d do this,” he said, eyes dark.
“Ever since that night when I confessed to you drunk, you’ve been avoiding me. I wasn’t sure if I should push things. If I told you how I felt and you turned me down, we might not even stay friends.”
“But then I realized… when did you ever treat me like a friend?”
“I don’t know your name, where you’re from, who your parents are. All I know is you’re Fortune Hayes—the housekeeper of Fortune Inn.”
“And yet, despite all that… I still like you.”
She kept her head bowed, refusing to meet his gaze.
He wrapped his arms around her gently, pulling her into his chest.
“Fortune, give me a chance.”
“And give yourself a chance—to let go of the past.”
Clara opened her mouth, ready to say she had no past to run from—
But out of the corner of her eye, she caught a figure moving near the old opera stage.
Someone tall. Familiar.
It was him. Elliot Vance.
She instinctively pushed Shawn away.
“Mr. Vance is back.”
Shawn looked down. Sure enough, it was Elliot.
...
Elliot had returned after a call from home.
His family warned him not to return to Federal Cross for at least a month.
The situation had escalated far beyond what he’d anticipated. If he returned now, he’d be arrested the moment he stepped off the plane.
His eldest brother had even sent him a voice recording of their father’s phone call—General Vance repeatedly urged him not to act recklessly this time.
When business clashed with politics, businessmen like him became disposable.
Only by watching from the sidelines could he stay safe—and keep his family out of it.
After hearing all this, Shawn let out a long breath. “And here I thought your dad was just punishing you to push that arranged marriage. Turns out Vance Capital’s become their political battlefield.”
“Keep an eye on Gabriel Weston,” Elliot said bluntly. “You won’t win against him. Don’t act rashly—whatever happens, wait for me to come back.”
“Are you kidding me?” Shawn snapped. “He was just a broke kid when you sponsored him through college. You gave him his first startup funds. Everything he has now? That’s because of you. And now he’s stabbing you in the back—and you still want me to be patient? Smile at him every day like nothing’s wrong?”
“We don’t know for sure it’s him,” Elliot said, closing his laptop. “Not until we have proof. Don’t stir the waters.”
Shawn understood what he meant: this wasn’t about forgiveness—it was about not spooking the snake too soon.
Still, Gabriel Weston betraying Vance Capital was all but confirmed.
“You know me,” Shawn said with a wry smile. “I’m a polite bastard. I can smile at anyone. If you say I can’t win against him, trust me, he’ll think I’m harmless.”
“I need some rest,” Elliot said, rising. “Close the door on your way out.”
Shawn glanced at his suitcase, grumbling under his breath.
“You ruined my damn confession and I didn’t even charge you emotional damages. I’m leaving tomorrow. What’s the harm in letting me crash here for one night? So what if you’re the boss now? Big deal!”
Elliot shut the door, cutting off the tirade.
He threw his coat aside, pressed the button to lower the blinds. Darkness crept into the room.
A flick of his lighter sparked a small flame, the glow catching in his eyes as he lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
But in his mind, all he could see was Shawn holding Clara in his arms on the terrace.
A clever woman never plays dirty. She always knows where the line is.
She hadn’t said yes.
Which meant—just like him—she knew some lines should never be crossed.
Not even in the snow.
- Writer
