Chapter 2 - The Whispers of Moretti ManorThe east wing of Moretti Manor was larger than Norah’s entire apartment building. Her room featured high vaulted ceilings, a roaring stone fireplace, a king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets, and an adjoining nursery fully stocked with brand-new clothes, wooden toys, and cans of high-end organic formula.
For the first three days, Norah barely left her suite. She spent her time bathing Leo in the clawfoot tub, feeding him, and sitting by the fire, struggling to process the sudden shift in her reality. She was a woman from the working-class streets of Pilsen, accustomed to counting pennies for groceries. Now, she was served three hot meals a day on fine porcelain by staff who addressed her as "Ma'am."
Yet, the mansion was far from peaceful.
Through the heavy oak doors, Norah could hear the muffled echoes of Gabriel’s life—the sharp ring of encrypted phones, the footsteps of armed guards pacing the marble hallways, and the low, tense hushed arguments between Gabriel and his top lieutenants.
On the fourth evening, unable to sleep after putting Leo to rest in his crib, Norah wrapped a thick cashmere cardigan around her shoulders and tiptoed down the dimly lit grand staircase toward the kitchen in search of warm milk.
As she passed the double doors of Gabriel’s private study, she heard elevated voices inside.
"It’s a mistake, Gabriel!" Dante’s voice boomed through the mahogany wood. "Valenti knows she’s here. He’s calling it an act of war! He claims Thomas Bennett was working for him when he stole the shipment, which makes the woman Valenti’s property!"
"Norah Bennett is no one's property," Gabriel’s voice responded, smooth, deep, and unyielding. "And Valenti does not dictate terms on my territory."
"We are risking a full-scale turf war for a deadbeat’s wife and a bastard baby!" Dante spat back. "The lieutenants are uneasy, Gabriel. The commission wants to know why the Don of the Moretti family is playing guardian angel to a nobody from the South Side!"
Norah stopped in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat. Her knuckles turned white as she clutched her cardigan. She was the spark about to ignite a mob war.
"The commission can ask whatever they wish," Gabriel said coldly. "Thomas Bennett stole two hundred thousand dollars from my accounts. His wife and child are my collateral until that debt is settled. That is the official stance. If any lieutenant questions my authority again, bring them to me personally, Dante. We will discuss their loyalty."
There was a long pause, followed by the heavy sound of footsteps. Panic surged through Norah. She turned to run back toward the stairs, but her foot caught on the edge of the Persian rug. She stumbled, her shoulder slamming into a high antique side table. A crystal vase wobbled violently before crashing onto the hardwood floor, shattering into a hundred glittering pieces.
The study doors flew open instantly.
Dante stepped out, his hand already on the butt of the gun holstered beneath his arm. Gabriel followed closely behind, his face dark with annoyance.
"Monitoring our conversations, Mrs. Bennett?" Dante sneered, lowering his weapon slightly but keeping his eyes narrowed.
Norah backed against the wall, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "I... I was just going to the kitchen. I didn't mean to listen."
Gabriel held up a hand, halting Dante’s advance. He walked over, his heavy boots stepping carefully around the shards of glass. He stood over her, his tall frame blocking out the warm light of the hallway sconces.
"You should be resting," Gabriel said softly.
"I heard him," Norah whispered, refusing to lower her gaze this time. "He’s right, isn't he? I'm bringing danger to your house. Your men don't want us here."
Gabriel looked at Dante. "Leave us."
Dante glared at Norah before turning on his heel and walking down the hallway toward the security office.
Once they were alone, Gabriel knelt down, picking up a large shard of crystal from the floor and tossing it onto a silver tray nearby. "Dante worries about logistics. I worry about outcomes. You do not need to concern yourself with what my men think."
"How can I not?" Norah asked, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I am living on your charity, eating your food, using your guards to protect my son. And now men are threatening war because I'm breathing your air. Tell me the truth, Mr. Moretti—what happens when you catch Thomas?"
Gabriel stood up, dusting off his trousers. "When I find your husband, he will answer for his theft."
"And then what happens to us?"
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Gabriel stepped closer, his thumb reaching out to brush a tear from her cheek. His touch was surprisingly calloused, yet impossibly gentle. "Then, Norah, you will be free to make a choice. But until that day comes, you stay behind my walls. Not as a hostage... but as someone under my personal protection."
Norah looked into his dark eyes, searching for deception, but found only an ancient, immovable truth. For the first time in her life, she felt something terrifyingly unfamiliar: safe.
