Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE SHE SWORE SHE’D NEVER ENTER AGAIN
The Moretti estate looked exactly as Emma remembered it.
That was somehow the cruelest part.
The limestone mansion stood above Lake Michigan behind iron gates and bare autumn trees. Security lights washed across the circular driveway. Men in dark suits watched from positions designed to look casual.
Emma had once called this place home.
Now she arrived carrying a small suitcase containing maternity clothes and prenatal vitamins.
Adrian carried everything else.
She had refused the estate until Nathan discovered that the watcher outside her apartment had disappeared through an alley before his men could intercept him.
Then Dr. Sloan called.
Emma’s blood pressure remained concerning.
Stress needed to be reduced.
The irony almost made Emma laugh.
Nothing reduced stress like moving into your mafia ex-husband’s fortified mansion while his uncle possibly plotted against your unborn child.
Inside, Mrs. Russo, the longtime housekeeper, burst into tears when she saw Emma.
Then she saw Emma’s stomach.
Her hands flew over her mouth.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Emma barely had time to brace herself before the older woman hugged her.
Adrian stood several feet away.
Mrs. Russo glared at him over Emma’s shoulder.
“You idiot.”
Nathan looked at the floor.
Adrian accepted the judgment.
“Yes.”
“You let her leave pregnant?”
“I didn’t know.”
“You should have known.”
“I agree.”
Mrs. Russo seemed disappointed that he refused to argue.
Emma almost laughed.
Her old bedroom remained unchanged.
Fresh flowers stood beside the window.
Her books still occupied the shelves.
Even the ridiculous ceramic dog Adrian had won for her at a Wisconsin county fair remained on the dresser.
Emma stared at it.
“You kept everything?”
Adrian stood in the doorway.
“I couldn’t move it.”
“Why?”
He gave her a look that answered the question.
She turned away.
“I’ll sleep here.”
“Of course.”
“Where will you sleep?”
“My room.”
Their room.
Neither said it.
That night Emma woke at 2:13 a.m. hungry.
Pregnancy had transformed her appetite into something unreasonable.
She went downstairs and found Adrian standing in the kitchen wearing gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt, attempting to make grilled cheese.
Attempting was generous.
Smoke rose from the skillet.
Emma stared.
“You own restaurants.”
“I don’t cook in them.”
“You have staff.”
“I sent everyone to bed.”
“Why?”
“You used to hate people hovering around you at night.”
She looked at him.
He remembered.
Adrian noticed her staring.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The sandwich burned.
Emma sighed and took the spatula.
“Move.”
He obeyed.
Ten minutes later they sat across from each other at the kitchen island eating grilled cheese and tomato soup.
It felt dangerously normal.
“Did you really look for me?” Emma asked.
Adrian put down his spoon.
“Every day.”
“Why didn’t you come?”
“I thought staying away kept you safe.”
“After the divorce was final?”
“Yes.”
“You knew where I was?”
“Until you changed apartments.”
“That was four months ago.”
“I lost you after that.”
Emma studied him.
“You could find anyone in Chicago.”
“Anyone who wasn’t actively trying to disappear from me.”
A sad smile touched his mouth.
“You always were better at hiding than you thought.”
She looked down.
“I didn’t hide because I hated you.”
“I know.”
“I hid because if you learned about her, I was afraid you’d take over.”
“I probably would have.”
“At least you admit it.”
“I’ve had six months to discover that my instincts are occasionally terrible.”
“Occasionally?”
He almost smiled.
Their daughter kicked.
Emma flinched.
Adrian immediately stood.
“What happened?”
“She kicked my ribs.”
“Is that normal?”
“Yes.”
“Should we call Sloan?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Emma laughed.
It escaped before she could stop it.
Adrian froze.
She hadn’t laughed with him in almost a year.
The sound changed the room.
Then Nathan entered.
His expression erased it.
“We found Vale.”
Adrian stood.
“Where?”
“Dead.”
Emma’s smile disappeared.
Nathan placed a folder on the counter.
“His car was found near the river. Vale was inside.”
Adrian opened the folder.
“Cause?”
“Looks staged as suicide.”
“Meaning?”
“He had bruising on both wrists.”
Adrian’s jaw hardened.
Nathan continued.
“And there’s another problem.”
He produced a financial report.
“Vale received two hundred thousand dollars three days ago.”
“From Carlo?”
“No.”
Nathan turned the document around.
“The payment came from a Moretti Holdings subsidiary.”
Adrian stared.
“Which one?”
“Executive authorization account.”
Emma watched his face.
“Whose authorization?”
Nathan hesitated.
“Yours.”
Adrian went still.
“That’s impossible.”
“Your digital signature is attached.”
Someone had framed him.
Worse, someone inside his own company had access powerful enough to do it.
Emma suddenly understood.
“This isn’t only about your uncle.”
Adrian looked at her.
“No.”
Nathan nodded.
“We may have someone inside the company.”
A phone rang.
Not Adrian’s.
Not Nathan’s.
Emma’s.
Dr. Sloan.
Emma answered.
“Hello?”
The doctor sounded confused.
“Emma, did you authorize someone to request your complete prenatal records?”
Her stomach tightened.
“No.”
Adrian was already watching her.
Dr. Sloan continued.
“Someone contacted our records department tonight. They had your date of birth, previous address, insurance information—everything.”
Emma gripped the phone.
“Did they get the records?”
“No. The request was flagged because they couldn’t answer a verification question.”
Adrian held out his hand.
Emma put the phone on speaker.
“Dr. Sloan,” he said, “what exactly were they requesting?”
“All prenatal records.”
“Anything specific?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“They repeatedly asked whether genetic testing had established fetal sex and paternity.”
Emma looked at Adrian.
Their daughter was no longer merely suspected.
May you like
Someone was trying to prove exactly who she was.
And somewhere inside the Moretti empire, someone had decided that proof was dangerous.
