Chapter 5 - Shadows over the Estate
Two weeks passed.
Inside the iron gates of the Torino estate, a strange and beautiful transformation was taking place.
Carmen’s health was improving dramatically under the care of Dr. Evans. The fever had broken, the terrifying cough had subsided into a rare tickle, and color had finally returned to her cheeks. For the first time in three years, she didn't wake up in the middle of the night terrified of a landlord’s knock or a loan shark’s threat.
She sat on a wrought-iron bench in the estate garden, wearing a soft cream-colored cardigan that Vincent had ordered for her.
Across the lush green lawn, Isabella was running wildly with a pair of golden retriever puppies that Vincent had bought "for estate security purposes"—though everyone in the house knew the truth. For the first time since her husband’s death, Carmen heard her daughter laugh with pure, unburdened joy.
Footsteps sounded on the gravel path. Carmen turned to see Vincent walking toward her, dressed in a charcoal suit, his hands tucked in his pockets.
Carmen immediately stood up, smoothing her skirt. “Don Vincent.”
“Sit down, Carmen,” Vincent said gently, motioning for her to stay seated. He sat on the opposite end of the bench, looking out at Isabella playing with the dogs. “How are you feeling today?”
“I feel... like I am living someone else’s life,” Carmen confessed softly. She looked at him, her dark eyes filled with a deep, overwhelming gratitude. “The doctor said I can start walking outside more. I... I don’t know how to thank you, Don Vincent. There are no words for what you’ve done for us.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Vincent said. “And stop calling me ‘Don.’ In this house, my name is Vincent.”
Carmen flushed slightly, looking down at her hands. “It doesn’t feel right. I was your maid three weeks ago.”
“And three weeks ago, I was a blind fool who didn't notice what was happening under my own roof,” Vincent replied firmly. He turned his head to look at her.
Up close, without the pallor of sickness and starvation, Carmen was a strikingly beautiful woman. She possessed a quiet dignity, a gentle grace that years of hardship had failed to erase. Vincent found himself looking at her more often than he cared to admit, feeling a strange, unfamiliar warmth in his chest whenever she smiled.
“Isabella is doing very well at Saint Jude’s,” Vincent added. “Her teachers say she is top of her class in reading.”
Carmen smiled, her eyes shining with pride. “She loves it there. She talks about her new friends every night. She... she asks about you, too. Every evening before she goes to sleep, she asks if you’re home yet.”
Vincent felt a subtle tug at his heartstrings. A man whose presence usually terrified people was being waited on by an eight-year-old girl who just wanted to say goodnight.
Before he could respond, Marco appeared at the edge of the garden path. His posture was stiff, his face grim. He gave Vincent a quick, urgent nod.
Vincent stood up immediately, his relaxed demeanor instantly vanishing behind a mask of professional alertness.
“Rest now, Carmen,” Vincent said gently. “I have some matters to attend to.”
He walked quickly across the lawn, meeting Marco near the fountain.
“What is it?” Vincent asked low.
“Our scouts caught a van sitting near the south gate an hour ago,” Marco whispered, his eyes scanning the surrounding trees. “It was registered to a dummy company owned by the Mangano family. They had long-range telephoto cameras, Vincent. They were taking photos of Carmen and Isabella in the garden.”
Vincent’s blood ran cold, instantly replaced by a scorching, terrible rage.
“Did you take them?”
“We intercepted the van before they could transmit the photos,” Marco reported. “The men are in the basement right now. But Vincent... this means Mangano is making his move. He knows where your vulnerability is.”
Vincent stared back at the garden, where Carmen was waving at Isabella, her face filled with light and laughter.
For thirty years, he had lived as a ghost—no wife, no children, no loved ones that enemies could exploit. He had built an indestructible fortress around his soul. But now, the fortress had windows, and through those windows, the wolves were watching the two people who had somehow become his entire world.
“Increase the guard around the perimeter,” Vincent commanded, his voice dark and deadly. “Put four armed men on Carmen and Isabella twenty-four hours a day. No one leaves the estate without my personal escort.”
“And what about Mangano?” Marco asked.
May you like
Vincent looked up at the grey, gathering storm clouds above the Hudson River.
“Assemble the captains,” Vincent growled. “It’s time to cut the head off the snake.”
