Chapter 3 - The Gathering Storm
Weeks bled into months, and for the first time in four years, Evelyn learned what it felt like to breathe without bracing for a blow.
The guest house was a sanctuary. Safe, warm, and entirely removed from the terrifying pulse of the main manor. Leo was walking now, taking his first wobbly steps across the hardwood floor while a trusted nanny hired by Luca—vetted by his security team with obsessive paranoia—watched over him while Evelyn worked.
She rarely saw Luca, but his presence was woven into the fabric of her new life. A basket of fresh fruit left on the kitchen counter with no note attached. An upgraded security system installed overnight after a stray car idled too long near the eastern perimeter. A quiet nod exchanged across the courtyard when their paths crossed in the afternoon sunlight.
She was no longer Marie Sutton. Around the estate, she was simply Evelyn, and the staff—once cold and distant—treated her with a strange, cautious respect. They knew the boss had intervened. In the Moretti household, that meant you were untouchable.
Until the night the storm returned.
It was late May, but unseasonably cold. Evelyn was in the main kitchen, helping the head chef prep breakfast inventories for the upcoming week, when the heavy iron-reinforced security gates at the front entrance echoed through the intercom system with a sharp, continuous buzzing.
"Perimeter breach," a voice crackled over the security radio on the wall. "Unregistered vehicle ramming the outer barrier. Plate matches a silver sedan registered to municipal holdings downtown. One male occupant, heavily intoxicated, refusing to turn off the engine."
Evelyn dropped her clipboard. The pen clattered against the tile floor.
"Grayson," she breathed, the name tasting like ash and iron on her tongue.
The head chef stopped chopping, her eyes widening as she looked at Evelyn's pale face. "You know him?"
"He found me," Evelyn whispered, panic seizing her lungs. "God help me, he found me."
May you like
Before she could move toward the back exit to run to the guest house, the heavy wooden doors of the kitchen burst open. Two of Luca’s senior enforcers—massive men in dark tactical vests—flanked the doorway, their hands resting casually on the holsters at their hips.
"Boss wants her in the main foyer," the larger of the two men said, his eyes scanning Evelyn with grim efficiency. "Now."
