Chapter 10 - THE ONE THING MONEY COULDN'T BUY
“You can't pay me to become part of your family, Gideon.”
Neta stood in the Croft mansion's kitchen, holding an unsigned contract.
Three weeks had passed since the gathering that changed everything.
The relief payments had begun reaching the families.
An independent oversight committee now managed the fund.
Declan was under investigation, and his access to company resources had been suspended.
For the first time in months, the estate felt peaceful.
But Gideon had just made a mistake.
He had offered Neta a five-year catering agreement.
Sugar and Spice Bakery would supply food for company meetings, employee celebrations, and community events.
The contract was worth more than anything her bakery had earned in a single year.
Neta read the numbers twice.
Then she looked at him.
“This is too much.”
Gideon frowned.
“You're a good baker.”
“I'm an excellent baker.”
“Then what's the problem?”
“You haven't compared my prices with anyone else's.”
“I don't need to.”
“Yes,” she said firmly, “you do.”
Gideon stared.
Neta placed the document on the counter.
“If you hire me because my business offers good food at fair prices, that's fine.”
He opened his mouth.
She raised a finger.
“But if you're trying to repay me for bringing your birthday cake, you can stop right now.”
Gideon leaned back in his wheelchair.
“You think this is charity?”
“I think you have a habit of solving uncomfortable feelings with money.”
That stung.
He didn't deny it.
Neta softened her voice.
“I've spent four years proving I can take care of my son. I don't want Laith growing up thinking somebody rescued us because we were helpless.”
Gideon looked toward the garden.
Laith was outside with Thomas, helping plant flowers along the new accessible walkway.
The boy wore yellow rain boots despite the sunshine.
Thomas pretended not to notice.
Gideon smiled.
“He's a good kid.”
“He is.”
“You've done a remarkable job.”
Neta looked down.
For a moment, the compliment touched something she rarely let anyone see.
Then she straightened.
“Thank you. Now give me a fair contract.”
Gideon laughed.
“Fine.”
Two days later, Neta received a revised proposal.
Three competing bakeries had submitted bids.
Sugar and Spice won the catering contract for the company's community events.
Not because Gideon demanded it.
Because her prices were competitive, her quality was excellent, and she had the capacity to fulfill the orders.
Neta read the decision twice.
Then she called Gideon herself.
“You actually did it.”
“You told me to.”
“You don't usually take orders very well, do you?”
“According to Thomas, it's a lifelong problem.”
She laughed.
Gideon listened to the sound.
It had become one of his favorite things.
Meanwhile, the Croft business was changing.
Gideon began closing the operations tied to the criminal network that had dominated his father's generation.
He retained professional advisers to review his holdings, settle obligations, and separate the legitimate freight company from businesses he no longer intended to control.
Some former associates refused to cooperate.
Others were relieved.
The independent oversight committee demanded detailed accounting.
Gideon agreed.
No more private arrangements.
No more favors that couldn't be explained.
No more trusting a single man with money meant to protect vulnerable families.
Miriam Hale joined the relief committee.
Jessa Morales accepted an offer to return as head of dispatch compliance.
Thomas helped train a younger security supervisor, with written procedures replacing the informal system he'd relied on for decades.
And Gideon started attending physical therapy regularly again.
Not because anyone promised he would walk.
His spinal injury remained serious.
But he wanted to maintain his strength, manage pain, and improve the independence he already had.
Neta never praised him for performing ordinary tasks.
She asked about his day.
Complained when he forgot lunch.
And occasionally argued with him about terrible coffee.
It was strangely wonderful.
One Saturday afternoon, Gideon invited Neta and Laith to the estate for dinner.
Nothing formal.
No wealthy guests.
No security procession.
Thomas grilled chicken on the patio.
Neta brought potato salad.
Laith carried a package wrapped in bright green paper.
“For you.”
Gideon accepted it.
“What's the occasion?”
“Just because.”
Inside was a small plastic race car.
Blue.
With silver wheels.
Gideon laughed.
“Does this one have a turbo button?”
Laith shook his head.
“No. But it goes fast.”
He demonstrated across the patio table.
The car rolled straight into the potato salad.
Neta groaned.
“Laith!”
Thomas laughed so hard he had to sit down.
Gideon rescued the car.
“Excellent brakes,” he said.
Laith beamed.
Later, when the sun began setting, Neta stood beside the garden.
Gideon joined her.
“I've been thinking about what you said.”
“Which part?”
“That money can't buy a family.”
Neta glanced at him.
“It's true.”
“I know.”
He looked toward Laith, who was helping Thomas collect plates.
“I don't want him to think I'm trying to replace anyone.”
Neta's expression softened.
“His father isn't part of his life right now. But that doesn't mean you have to become something you're not.”
“What if I want to be someone he can depend on?”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“Then show up. Consistently. That's all children really ask.”
Gideon nodded.
“I can do that.”
Neta smiled.
“I think you already are.”
When it was time to leave, Laith stopped in the doorway.
He looked toward the enormous dining room.
The thirty-nine chairs had been returned to their normal places around the estate.
Only a smaller table remained in the breakfast room.
Three chairs stood beside it.
And space had been left for Gideon's wheelchair.
Laith stared at the arrangement.
“Mr. Croft?”
“Yes, buddy?”
“Why is there a chair for me?”
Gideon smiled.
“Because you come here.”
Laith thought about that.
Then he looked at his mother.
“Can I come again?”
“Of course,” Neta answered.
“But what if nobody has a birthday?”
Gideon laughed.
“You don't need a birthday to visit.”
The boy studied him seriously.
May you like
Then he asked a question that made both adults go quiet.
“If we come back next week, will you still have my chair?”
