Chapter 4 - The Greenwich Fortress
By eight o'clock that evening, the heavy iron gates of the Greenwich estate slammed shut behind our four-vehicle motorcade.
The estate sat atop a dark hill overlooking Long Island Sound. Dozens of security guards dressed in dark suits carrying concealed submachine guns patrolled the perimeter walls.
The SUV pulled up to the grand limestone portico.
Adrian opened the door, stepped out into the crisp autumn night air, and reached back inside to lift me out.
"I can walk, Adrian," I said, my voice tight as I stepped down onto the stone driveway. "My legs are perfectly fine."
He didn't argue, but his hand settled firmly against the small of my back, guiding me through the grand mahogany double doors into the warmth of the foyer.
The interior of the mansion was vast, lined with antique oil paintings, marble fireplaces, and tall arched windows overlooking the ocean. It was beautiful, opulent, and suffocating.
"Don Moretti," an elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Higgins, said, stepping forward with a tray of hot tea and warm towels. "Welcome back, sir. Welcome home, Mrs. Moretti."
"She isn't Mrs. Moretti anymore, Higgins," I corrected gently, taking a warm towel.
Adrian’s jaw tightened at my words, but he turned to Higgins smoothly. "Prepare the primary master suite on the second floor. Move all of Miss Bennett’s personal belongings from her Brooklyn apartment by midnight. I want a private medical team stationed in the east wing by tomorrow morning."
"Wait a minute!" I snapped, turning to face him in the center of the foyer. "You do not get to move my things! You do not get to dictate where I sleep!"
"This house is sealed under Level Four security protocol, Claire," Adrian stated, walking toward the grand stone fireplace, turning to face me with his hands in his trousers pockets. "You are not leaving this compound until Antonio is dealt with."
"And how long will that take?" I demanded. "Weeks? Months? Am I your prisoner now, Adrian?"
"You are the mother of my children!" he barked back, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "You are carrying the heirs to an international enterprise! Antonio tried to take your life four hours ago in a public hospital! Do you honestly think I am going to let you go back to a brownstone where anyone with a hundred-dollar handgun can walk through your front door?"
"I lived in that brownstone for two months because you tossed me out of your life!" I screamed, the tears I had been holding back all day finally spilling over my cheeks. "You didn't care where I slept then! You didn't care if I was lonely, or cold, or hurt! But now because there are two Morettis in my stomach, you act like you're my savior?!"
Adrian went dead silent.
He stared at me, his eyes wide, his expression suddenly stripped of all anger.
He took three slow, heavy steps toward me, stopping inches away. He reached up, his long fingers gently wiping the hot tears from my cheek.
"I didn't toss you out, Claire," he whispered, his voice laced with a deep, crushing sorrow. "Every single night for sixty-three days, I sat in that empty penthouse in Tribeca staring at your empty side of the bed."
I froze, staring at him.
"I drank myself to sleep every night," Adrian continued, his voice barely audible. "I looked at the divorce decree twenty times a day, hating myself for being too proud to ask you to stay. I thought you left because you hated my world. I thought you were happier without me."
He pressed his forehead gently against mine, his warm breath mingling with mine in the quiet hallway.
"I was dying without you, Claire," he breathed. "And finding out today that you were carrying our children... it felt like God giving a dead man a second chance at life."
My heart hammered against my ribs, wild and erratic.
Before I could process his words, a loud chime echoed from Adrian's encrypted tablet sitting on the side table.
May you like
Marco picked it up, glanced at the screen, and looked up at Adrian with a grim expression.
"Don Moretti," Marco said quietly. "Antonio just called an emergency meeting of the Commission for tomorrow morning at ten. He claims you are mentally unfit to lead the family—and he's presenting evidence that your ex-wife's pregnancy is a fraudulent attempt to secure voting shares."
