Chapter 2 - The Unspoken Bond & Shadows of the Past
The morning sun broke through the silver clouds, casting long shafts of golden light through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the breakfast room.
Gabriel did not go to his Manhattan office.
He sat at the head of the long oak table, dressed in a simple charcoal sweater and dark trousers, a cup of black coffee resting untouched before him.
Marco, his chief of security—a scarred man with cold grey eyes who had served the Moretti family for twenty years—stood beside the sideboard, holding an encrypted tablet.
"Don Gabriel," Marco said in a low, cautious voice. "The executive car is waiting outside. The board meeting regarding the Brooklyn docks begins in forty minutes."
"Cancel it," Gabriel said smoothly.
Marco blinked, caught off guard. "Cancel it, sir? Don Valenti’s representatives will be there. If you do not appear, they will assume you are showing weakness after the Boston deal."
"Let them assume whatever they wish," Gabriel replied, his voice calm, absolute, and unyielding. "Reschedule for next week. Tell them I am handling internal family matters."
Marco opened his mouth to object, but the sharp, dangerous glint in Gabriel’s eyes made him shut it immediately. "Understood, boss."
At that moment, the double doors of the kitchen swung open.
Emma walked in, carrying a large wooden tray laden with bowls of oatmeal, fresh strawberries, and sliced toast. She was wearing a simple beige linen dress today, her hair tied in a neat, low bun at the nape of her neck.
Behind her marched the triplets.
They were dressed in matching blue overalls. Leo was stomping his feet rhythmically, Lucas was carrying a small plastic jug of milk with extreme concentration, and Liam was holding Emma’s skirt with one hand while carrying his blue rabbit in the other.
When the boys saw Gabriel sitting at the head of the table, they all stopped dead in their tracks.
In the past, Gabriel would have already departed for the city, leaving behind a quiet house. They were not used to his presence at breakfast.
Emma paused, her hazel eyes meeting Gabriel’s. She noticed immediately that the leather notebook, which she had franticly searched for upon waking, was resting quietly on the corner of his place setting.
She didn't show panic. She simply set the tray down on the sideboard.
"Good morning, Mr. Moretti," Emma said softly.
"Good morning, Emma," Gabriel replied. His voice was different today—less like iron, more like velvet. He turned his head toward his sons. "Good morning, boys."
Leo looked at Lucas. Lucas looked at Liam.
Slowly, Leo took a step forward. "Daddy... you are not at work?"
"No, Leo," Gabriel said, sliding out of his heavy armchair and walking down to the side of the table. He lowered himself onto one knee, placing himself at eye level with his three small sons. "Today, I am staying home with you."
Liam’s small eyes widened. "To play rope?"
Gabriel’s lips twitched upward into the faint, long-forgotten ghost of a real smile. "If you want to play rope, we will play rope."
Emma stood near the sideboard, watching the scene unfold. A soft, breathless smile touched her lips, her eyes warm with a triumphant light.
Gabriel stood up and looked at Emma. "Join us for breakfast, Emma."
"Sir, it is not my place—"
"I am asking you to sit," Gabriel said gently, pulling out the chair right beside his own. "Please."
Emma hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded. She sat down, helping the boys into their high chairs while Gabriel served the porridge.
For the next hour, the grand breakfast room of the Moretti mansion—a room that had known only rigid silence and corporate strategy—was filled with the clinking of spoons, the chatter of three two-year-old boys, and the soft, musical sound of Emma’s laughter.
Gabriel watched her every move. He watched how she intuitively knew when Lucas needed his toast cut into triangles, how she gently wiped a smudge of strawberry from Leo’s nose without interrupting his wild story about a dragon, and how her hand occasionally brushed his as they passed bowls back and forth.
Every touch sent a strange, electric spark through Gabriel’s veins.
However, the peace of the morning was shattered at 11:00 AM.
Gabriel was in his private study on the main floor, watching through the open French doors as Emma helped the boys build a massive wooden train track on the rug.
Marco stepped into the study without knocking. His face was pale, his hand resting near his concealed sidearm.
"Gabriel," Marco whispered, using his boss’s given name—a sign of extreme gravity. "We have a problem."
Gabriel stood up, his posture instantly shifting from relaxed father back to formidable mafia lord. "Report."
"Don Valenti’s men were spotted two miles from the outer gate," Marco said, leaning over the desk. "They know you canceled the Brooklyn meeting. Valenti thinks you're vulnerable because of Isabella’s anniversary next week. Our intelligence suggests he has hired a mercenary crew to test our perimeter security."
Gabriel’s eyes hardened into ice. The warmth of the morning evaporated from his face, replaced by a ruthless, terrifying intensity.
"How many?" Gabriel asked coldly.
"Three vehicles. Eight armed men," Marco replied. "They are scouting the tree line along the north road."
Gabriel looked through the glass doors. Emma was currently down on her knees, laughing as Liam pushed a red toy engine into her lap. She looked up, her keen intuition catching Gabriel’s sharp gaze.
She saw the shadow on his face, and her smile faded instantly.
Gabriel stepped out of his study and walked directly into the playroom. He did not look at the toys. He looked at Emma.
"Emma," he said, his voice quiet, low, and laced with absolute authority. "Take the boys upstairs to the inner nursery. Lock the doors. Do not open them for anyone except me or Marco."
Emma’s heart skipped a beat. She didn't ask questions. She didn't scream or panic. She saw the deadly gravity in his dark eyes and recognized the unspoken danger of his world.
"Yes, Gabriel," she said softly, using his name for the first time.
She gathered all three boys into her arms with practiced ease, lifting Leo and Lucas while guiding Liam by the hand.
As she passed Gabriel in the doorway, she stopped. Her free hand reached out, her fingers softly brushing against his sleeve.
"Be safe," she whispered, her hazel eyes searching his face with raw, unfiltered concern.
May you like
Gabriel looked down at her small hand on his arm. In that brief, fleeting moment, surrounded by the threat of violence and war, Gabriel felt a fierce, primal urge to protect this woman with every drop of blood in his body.
"Nothing will touch this house," Gabriel promised softly. "Go."
