Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of the East Wing
When Veto returned to the medical suite, Dr. Valenti was finishing wrapping a clean white bandage around Willow’s palm.
Willow was sitting up on the examination table, holding a glass of warm orange juice that the doctor had given her. She looked tiny against the stainless steel equipment of the room, her eyes swollen and tired.
Bruno was lying on the floor beside the table, his heavy chin resting on his paws, watching her with vigilant, dark eyes.
Veto walked in and nodded to the doctor. "How is she?"
"The hand is a superficial laceration," Dr. Valenti reported, stepping back. "No structural damage, though it required four stitches. However, her blood pressure is elevated, and she is significantly underweight for someone five months pregnant. She needs proper rest, nutritious food, and zero stress."
"She will have all three," Veto said smoothly.
Willow looked up at him, her eyes wide with anxiety. "Mr. Ferrante... Mrs. Vance came by the door a few minutes ago. She looked very angry. She said I need to clear out my locker in the basement staff room."
"Mrs. Vance has been relieved of her duties," Veto said calmly.
Willow blinked in absolute shock. "What?"
"She failed to monitor the health and safety of the staff under her supervision," Veto stated simply, as if firing the head housekeeper of twenty years was a minor administrative detail. "You will not be returning to the basement, Willow."
He reached out and held out his hand to help her down from the examination table.
Willow hesitated, looking down at his large, calloused palm. She took it gently, feeling the immense strength and warmth in his grip as he guided her to her feet.
"Where... where am I going?" she asked softly.
"To the east wing," Veto said.
Willow stopped dead in her tracks.
The east wing was the private residence section of the estate. It was where the Ferrante family lived—a wing filled with priceless art, private security, and luxury suites. Domestic staff were never allowed in the east wing unless accompanied by an escort for deep cleaning.
"Mr. Ferrante, I can't stay there," Willow stammered, panic rising in her chest again. "That's... that's where the family lives. I'm just a maid."
Veto looked down at her, his dark eyes unreadable.
"You are carrying a child of the Ferrante bloodline," Veto said, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "That means you are no longer a maid in this house. You are a guest of the Don."
Willow gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. She stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
"You... you know?" she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes again.
"I know," Veto replied softly. "Julian told me everything."
A heavy silence settled over the medical room. Willow looked down at the floor, shame and fear twisting her stomach into knots.
"He didn't want it," she whispered, her voice cracking. "When I told him three months ago... he offered me a check for twenty thousand dollars and told me to get an abortion in Indiana. He said if I ever told anyone in the house, he would make sure I ended up in the river."
A dangerous, icy wave swept over Veto’s expression, though his voice remained completely calm.
"Julian is a coward," Veto said softly. "He speaks with a big mouth because he hides behind my name. But he does not rule this house, Willow. I do."
He placed his hand gently on the small of her back, guiding her out of the medical wing and toward the grand grand staircase leading to the east wing.
May you like
"As long as you are under this roof," Veto promised, looking down at her pale, tear-stained face, "no one will ever threaten you again. Not Julian, not Mrs. Vance, and not anyone in this city."
Bruno trotted closely beside them, his heavy tail giving a single, approving wag as they mounted the stairs together into the warm, golden light of the upper floors.
