Chapter 4 - The Betrayal at the Gala
Four days passed in a dreamlike sanctuary.
Ethan returned to the estate every evening, and slowly, a comfortable rhythm developed. He would shed his ruthless corporate shell the moment he walked through the front doors, joining Anna and the twins for dinner in the family dining room. He listened attentively as Samuel explained his toy cars and laughed softly as Sophia tried to feed him green beans.
Between Anna and Ethan, an undeniable, charged tension began to build. Lingering glances across the dinner table, the subtle brush of his hand against hers when he passed a dish, the quiet conversations they shared by the fireplace long after the children had fallen asleep.
Anna learned about Ethan’s past—that he had lost his mother at a young age to the brutal violence of the city's underworld, and that he had spent his adult life trying to legitimize his family’s enterprise and protect the vulnerable from men like his father.
"I built a wall around my life so no one could ever use my heart against me," Ethan confessed one night, sitting close to her on the leather sofa, his dark eyes searching hers. "And then a tired mother hid two angels in my bed, and tore the whole wall down."
Anna’s breath hitched. She reached out, her fingers gently touching his sharp cheekbone. "Ethan..."
He leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft, hesitant, and filled with a deep, aching tenderness that made her soul sing.
When he pulled back, his eyes burned with a fierce promise. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Anna. Ever."
However, peace in the shadow of danger is a fragile thing.
On Friday evening, Ethan was scheduled to attend the annual Metropolitan Children’s Hospital Gala—a high-society event in Manhattan where he was being honored for his multi-million-dollar philanthropic donations.
"I have to go," Ethan told Anna in his dressing room as he straightened his black tuxedo tie. "If I skip it, it signals weakness. Vance’s allies will think I am hiding."
"Take security," Anna urged, adjusting his lapel with trembling hands. "Please, Ethan. I have a bad feeling."
Ethan caught her hand, kissing her knuckles gently. "Frank and six armed men will be with me. You and the children will stay here inside the estate. The security protocols are at maximum level. You are completely safe."
He kissed her deeply once more before departing into the rainy night.
For two hours after he left, the estate was quiet. Anna put the twins to bed, then sat in the library trying to read, but her anxiety refused to settle.
At 9:30 PM, the lights in the estate suddenly flickered and died.
The roaring fire in the grate was the only source of light left in the library.
Anna stood up instantly, her heart slamming into her throat. Emergency sirens began to wail softly outside the house—a low, rhythmic pulse that signaled a perimeter breach.
"Mrs. Gable!" Anna called out, running into the hallway.
Before she reached the stairs, the sound of glass shattering echoed from the rear conservatory, followed by the muffled thud of silenced gunshots.
Anna gasped, sprinting toward the nursery wing. Her motherly instincts took total control, overriding every trace of fear. She burst into the twins' room, grabbing both sleeping children into her arms before they could even fully wake up.
"Mama?" Sophia whined, rubbing her eyes. "Why is it dark?"
"Shh, baby, stay quiet," Anna whispered frantically, retreating into the walk-in nursery closet and pulling the heavy wooden door almost completely shut. She squeezed the twins tight against her chest, listening to her own ragged breathing.
Footsteps heavy and fast echoed down the hallway outside the nursery.
"Check every room!" a harsh, familiar voice yelled. "Find the girl and the kids! Vance wants them loaded into the van in two minutes!"
It was Miller—the corrupt detective from the hotel.
Anna pressed her hand over Samuel’s mouth as the little boy began to whimper. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying with every fiber of her being. Ethan... please...
The nursery door was kicked open with a loud CRACK.
Flashlight beams danced across the walls of the room, illuminating the empty canopy beds.
"They aren't in their beds!" a gunman barked.
"Search the closets!" Miller ordered, his voice getting closer. "They're in this wing somewhere!"
The heavy footsteps moved directly toward the closet door. Anna felt her heart freeze. She looked at her children, wrapping her body around them like a shield, preparing to fight with her bare hands if she had to.
A shadow blocked the light beneath the closet door.
A hand reached out and grasped the brass knob.
CLICK.
Before the door could be pulled open, a deafening explosion of gunfire erupted in the hallway outside!
Shouts of pain, glass breaking, and heavy bodies hitting the floor resonated through the house.
"It's Martin!" someone screamed in sheer terror from the hallway. "It's a trap! He's—"
A single, suppressed gunshot cut the man off.
Silence fell over the nursery like a heavy shroud.
Anna held her breath, her tears dripping onto Samuel’s hair. She listened to slow, heavy footsteps entering the nursery, moving deliberately toward the closet.
The closet door was pulled wide open.
Ethan stood in the doorway, framed by the dim amber light of the emergency hallway back-ups.
He was breathing heavily, his black tuxedo jacket discarded, his white shirt stained with dirt and blood. In his hand, he held a sleek black pistol, smoke still faintly curling from the barrel. His eyes were wild, dark, and filled with a primal, terrifying fury—until his gaze fell upon Anna and the twins huddled on the floor.
Instantly, the darkness in his face shattered.
He dropped the gun onto a nearby chair, dropped to his knees, and pulled all three of them into his massive, powerful arms, holding them so tight Anna could feel the thunderous pounding of his heart against her cheek.
"I have you," Ethan choked out, his voice raw with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry I let them reach you. I have you."
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"Ethan..." Anna sobbed, burying her face in his neck, clinging to him as if he were her only anchor in a storm. "You came back."
"I will always come back for you," he whispered fiercely, kissing her hair, her forehead, her cheeks. "Always."
