Chapter 3 - The Iron Gates of River Forest
The drive from downtown Chicago to Arthur’s estate in River Forest was executed in complete, heavy silence.
I sat in the backseat of a black armored sedan while Arthur sat in the front passenger seat, looking through encrypted tablet files. A stoic driver named Thomas navigated the rain-slicked streets with smooth, practiced caution.
The estate was surrounded by ten-foot wrought-iron fences, topped with discreet security wiring and backed by dense oak trees. When the heavy gates slid open, revealing a sweeping stone driveway leading to a magnificent, dark-brick Tudor mansion, my chest tightened.
It looked less like a home and more like a fortress built to withstand a siege.
"My children are asleep," Arthur said as the car came to a stop before the grand arched entrance. "Or at least, they are supposed to be."
"How old are they?" I asked, gathering my black clutch.
"Leo is seventeen," Arthur said, stepping out of the car and opening my door himself. "He remembers the bombing. He hates the world, and he will probably hate you on sight."
"A comforting start," I noted dryly.
"Sophia is fourteen," Arthur continued as we walked up the stone steps. "She keeps to herself. Julian is nine, and Mia is six. Mia was three when Clara died. She doesn't remember her mother clearly, which makes her fiercely protective of her mother's memory."
Inside, the house was expansive, grand, and suffocatingly quiet.
High wood-paneled ceilings, marble fireplaces, and heavy velvet drapes gave the foyer an impression of frozen time. Dust motes danced in the soft dim light of a single chandelier. There were no fresh flowers, no toys scattered on the floor, no music—only the heavy, oppressive air of a family living in permanent mourning.
An elderly housekeeper in a dark dress met us near the grand staircase.
"Good evening, Mr. Costa," she said, her voice formal. "The children are in their rooms."
"Thank you, Mrs. Gable," Arthur replied. "This is Norah. She is living here now."
Mrs. Gable gave me a long, searching look—not hostile, but weary, as if she had seen too many temporary visitors pass through these doors.
"Your room is prepared in the East Wing, ma'am," Mrs. Gable said with a small bow.
"Thank you," I said gently.
Arthur gestured toward the stairs. "I will show you the way."
As we walked down the broad, carpeted hallway of the second floor, I caught a glimpse of a shadow standing near the doorway of a bedroom at the far end.
A tall boy with messy dark hair and Arthur’s sharp jawline stood in the shadows, leaning against the doorframe, wearing a black hoodie.
Leo.
He looked at me, then looked at his father, his eyes flashing with a cold, intense resentment that felt like a physical slap. He didn't speak. He simply stepped back into his room and slammed the heavy oak door so hard the framed paintings on the wall trembled.
Arthur didn't flinch. He didn't yell. He simply stopped outside a set of double doors halfway down the hall and opened them.
"This is your suite," Arthur said. "It connects to my quarters through a private study, but the inner door stays locked from your side unless you choose otherwise."
I walked into the suite. It was large, beautifully decorated in cream and gold, with a private fireplace and a terrace overlooking the gardens.
"Thank you, Arthur," I said, standing near the foot of the bed.
May you like
Arthur stood in the doorway, his tall frame blocking the light from the hall.
"Tomorrow morning, the estate is yours to run, Norah," he said softly. "Welcome to River Forest."
