Chapter 7 - The Empire at Midnight
The black sedan did not take her to her narrow, three-locked apartment on 12th Street.
Instead, it crossed the river, ascending the winding, tree-lined roads that led to the high cliffs overlooking the harbor.
The Moretti estate sat atop the highest crest of the hill—a massive, historic stone manor surrounded by high wrought-iron gates, ancient oak trees, and sprawling lawns lit by soft, amber estate lamps.
As the car pulled through the gates, security guards in dark suits bowed their heads respectfully as Arthur’s vehicle passed.
The car stopped beneath a grand stone portico.
Leo opened the door, and Arthur guided Clara up the grand marble steps into the entrance hall.
The interior of the manor was breathtaking. High vaulted ceilings were adorned with hand-painted frescoes, dark mahogany paneling lined the walls, and a massive crystal chandelier hung above a double staircase, casting thousands of dancing light specks across the polished marble floor.
Standing in a neat line near the grand archway were eight domestic staff members, led by an elderly woman in a crisp black dress with a silver key ring at her waist.
"Good evening, Mr. Moretti," the woman said, bowing slightly.
"Good evening, Mrs. Gable," Arthur replied, taking Clara’s coat and handing it to a waiting steward. "This is Clara Bennett. She will be staying with us."
Mrs. Gable’s eyes shifted to Clara. She did not look at Clara’s simple server uniform with disdain. She looked at her with deep, respectful deference.
"Welcome to the estate, Miss Bennett," Mrs. Gable said smoothly. "Your suite has been prepared on the second floor. A warm bath has been drawn, and the chef has prepared a supper of roasted duck and wild mushroom risotto."
Clara looked around the grand hall, her head spinning slightly. "Arthur... I don't have any clothes. My things are at my apartment..."
"Your things will be collected tomorrow morning," Arthur said gently, placing a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the dining room. "For tonight, everything you need has already been provided."
They entered a private dining room lit by a roaring fire in a grand stone hearth. A long mahogany table was set with fine china, silver cutlery, and crystal glasses.
Arthur pulled out a plush velvet chair for her, waiting until she was seated before taking his place at the head of the table.
Two servers immediately appeared, setting down steaming plates of exquisitely prepared food and pouring two glasses of deep red vintage wine.
Clara looked at the food, then at Arthur.
"Why are you doing all of this?" she asked softly. "You destroyed the man who hurt me. You paid his debt. You brought me to your home... why?"
May you like
Arthur picked up his wine glass, swirling the dark liquid gently under the firelight.
"Because for an entire year, Clara," Arthur said, his voice deep and dark as night, "I watched a remarkable, beautiful woman pour my whisky while pretending she wasn't living in a nightmare. And every night, I wished she would give me a reason to step in."
