Chapter 7 - The Woman Who Tried to Leave
Three weeks later, Hannah packed her suitcase.
She did it quietly.
Two sweaters.
Four shirts.
Jeans.
The photograph of her mother.
Her father was recovering in a federal protection facility.
Carlo and Daniel were awaiting trial under extraordinary security.
The trafficking network had begun collapsing.
The twins were safe.
Her job was finished.
At least that was what Hannah told herself.
She zipped the suitcase.
“Where are you going?”
Emma stood in the doorway.
Hannah’s heart sank.
“Sweetheart.”
“You’re leaving.”
“No.”
“You have your suitcase.”
Hannah crouched.
“My dad needs me.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“So do we.”
There were no tactical skills for that.
No training for a five-year-old breaking your heart.
Hannah hugged her.
“You have your daddy.”
“But Daddy needs you too.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Children saw too much.
Downstairs, Vincent already knew.
Marco had told him Hannah requested a car.
Vincent stood at the window of his study pretending he didn’t care.
He was remarkably bad at pretending.
Hannah entered twenty minutes later.
“My car should be here soon.”
“I canceled it.”
She stared at him.
“You what?”
“You’re still under my protection.”
“Carlo is in federal custody.”
“He has associates.”
“So do you.”
“Mine are better.”
Hannah folded her arms.
“You don’t get to imprison me because you dislike goodbyes.”
His expression shifted.
“You think that’s what this is?”
“I don’t know what this is.”
Neither did he.
That was the problem.
Vincent had spent his adult life understanding every relationship as an exchange.
Loyalty for protection.
Work for money.
Silence for survival.
Hannah fit nowhere.
She had protected his children before she trusted him.
She had risked her life when leaving would have been easier.
And she had walked into the wreckage Claire left behind without trying to replace her.
“I want you to stay.”
The sentence surprised both of them.
Hannah’s voice softened.
“As their nanny?”
Vincent didn’t answer quickly enough.
Pain crossed her face.
“That’s what I thought.”
She turned.
He caught her hand.
“Hannah.”
She stopped.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Want someone to stay.”
Silence.
Vincent released her hand slowly.
“I loved Claire.”
“I know.”
“I still love her.”
“I know.”
“And somehow that doesn’t stop me from…”
He couldn’t finish.
Hannah looked at him.
“From what?”
A crash interrupted them.
Emma and Noah tumbled through the half-open door.
“We weren’t listening!” Noah announced.
Emma glared at him.
“You’re not supposed to say that.”
For the first time in months, Vincent laughed.
Actually laughed.
Hannah did too.
The sound changed the room.
Later that afternoon, Hannah visited Thomas.
He sat beside a rehabilitation center window with his arm in a sling.
“You’re running,” he said.
“I’m leaving a job.”
“You haven’t looked like this because of a job since you were sixteen and worked at the frozen-yogurt place.”
“Dad.”
“You love those children.”
Hannah looked away.
“Yes.”
“And their father?”
“That’s complicated.”
“Everything worth having is.”
She gave him an irritated look.
“You disappeared for seven years. You don’t get to return with inspirational wisdom.”
Thomas smiled.
“Fair.”
Then he became serious.
“I stayed away because I thought distance would keep you safe. Instead, I lost seven years with my daughter.”
Hannah swallowed.
“Don’t repeat my mistake because you’re afraid of losing people.”
That evening she returned to the Moretti estate.
Her suitcase remained packed.
But she didn’t carry it downstairs.
Days became weeks.
Vincent changed too.
He began coming home for dinner.
He stopped taking calls at the table.
He attended Emma’s kindergarten presentation and Noah’s soccer practice.
He started dismantling the illegal pieces of the Moretti organization.
Some men protested.
Vincent removed them.
Some threatened him.
They learned quickly that becoming legitimate did not mean becoming weak.
One night Hannah found Vincent in the nursery doorway.
Emma and Noah were asleep.
“You’re staring,” she whispered.
“I do that.”
“I noticed.”
He looked at her.
“Hannah.”
“Yes?”
“I owe you something.”
“What?”
“A life that isn’t built around danger.”
“That’s not something you can give me.”
“I can try.”
She smiled slightly.
“You’re very controlling.”
“I’ve heard rumors.”
Then he touched her face.
Slowly.
Giving her every opportunity to move away.
She didn’t.
Their first kiss was quiet.
No fireworks.
No dramatic declaration.
Just two grieving people discovering that tenderness could exist without betraying the people they had lost.
When they separated, Hannah rested her forehead against his.
Then the nursery alarm began screaming.
Vincent spun.
The twins were safe.
But every security monitor downstairs had turned black.
Across each screen appeared the same message.
CLAIRE STOLE SOMETHING THAT BELONGS TO US.
NOW WE’RE TAKING IT BACK.
The nightmare wasn’t over.
May you like
Carlo had never been the top of the organization.
Someone else had been watching all along.
