Chapter 3 - The Threat in the Garden
By the next afternoon, the Moretti estate was undergoing a quiet, violent purge.
Mrs. Hargrove and Norah Wickham had been escorted off the premises in handcuffs after Dr. Vance confirmed high concentrations of pediatric tranquilizers in the red-tagged bottles. The police were not involved—the Moretti family handled their own justice—but rumors circulated among the staff that both women had been forced to surrender their licenses and forced out of the state entirely.
Meanwhile, my life had changed overnight.
My small, damp cottage near the estate stables was replaced by a magnificent three-room suite featuring cream silk drapery, plush Persian rugs, a private nursery connecting directly to Enzo’s room, and a balcony overlooking the formal rose gardens.
I stood on the balcony, dressed in a soft beige cashmere sweater provided by the estate stylist, watching Lily play in the garden below with Enzo under the watchful eyes of four armed Moretti guards.
“You look like you belong here.”
I jumped, turning around quickly.
Cassandra Vale stood in the doorway of my suite. She was wearing a blood-red silk dress, her pearl necklace gleaming against her throat, her face contorted in an expression of pure, unadulterated venom.
“Miss Vale,” I said, instinctively stepping back.
She stepped into my room, her heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor. She didn't look at the decor; her eyes were fixed entirely on me, scanning my clean hair, my expensive clothes, and the healed color returning to my face.
“Don't get comfortable, housekeeper,” Cassandra hissed, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. “You think because you played the hero with a baby bottle that Vincent is going to keep you here? You are a common girl with a fatherless bastard.”
My chest tightened, but I kept my chin high. “My daughter has a name, Miss Vale. And Mr. Moretti asked us to stay.”
Cassandra let out a bitter, cruel laugh. She took two steps forward, leaning into my face, her orange blossom perfume sickeningly thick.
“Vincent is marrying me in three months,” she spat out, her nails digging into her leather handbag. “Our union secures the merger between the Vale Shipping Syndicate and the Moretti family. He needs my family’s ports to move his cargo. He does not need a charity case with a cheap uniform.”
She reached out, her gloved fingers catching the fabric of my sweater, pulling me close.
“If you know what’s good for you and your little girl,” Cassandra warned, her eyes flashing with a terrifying, unhinged malice, “you will take whatever money he gave you and vanish before the wedding. Because once I am the mistress of this house... accidents happen very easily in these big gardens.”
“Is that a threat, Cassandra?”
A voice like thunder shattered the air.
Cassandra froze. Her hand dropped from my sweater as if she had touched red-hot iron.
Vincent Moretti stood in the open doorway of my suite. He was clad in a dark charcoal three-piece suit, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, but the aura emanating from him was pure, predatory death.
Cassandra spun around, her expression instantly shifting into one of sweet, innocent concern. “Vincent! Darling! I was just... I was just giving Maya some advice on how to manage the estate staff—”
“I heard what you said,” Vincent interrupted, his voice dropping an octave into a terrifying, smooth register.
He walked into the room, his heavy shoes echoing off the walls. He didn't even look at Cassandra as he stepped past her, placing himself directly between her and me—a human shield of muscle and authority.
“Vincent, please,” Cassandra pleaded, her voice trembling. “You can’t take the word of a maid over mine! My father—”
“Your father’s shipping ports were seized by my men two hours ago,” Vincent stated calmly.
Cassandra’s face went entirely white. “What... what did you say?”
Vincent pulled a sleek black tablet from his pocket and threw it onto the table. “Your uncle was the one who supplied Norah Wickham with the pediatric sedatives. He wanted Enzo kept weak and docile so your family could slowly gain influence over my household security.”
Cassandra backed away, her hands shaking uncontrollably. “No... no, Vincent! I knew nothing about that! I swear!”
“You knew,” Vincent said, his gray eyes fixing on her with absolute, final judgment. “You saw the red tag on the bottle yesterday morning. You recognized your uncle’s mark. And instead of saving my son, you tried to blame the girl who protected him.”
He turned to the doorway. “Marco.”
Marco stepped into the room, two armed guards right behind him.
“Strip Miss Vale of her estate privileges,” Vincent commanded coldly. “Cancel the wedding contract. Escort her off Moretti property immediately. If she or any member of the Vale family sets foot in New York again... execute them.”
“VINCENT!” Cassandra screamed as Marco’s men grabbed her arms, dragging her out of the suite, her frantic shrieks echoing down the long, marble corridor until the heavy doors slammed shut.
The room returned to absolute silence.
I stood there, my heart hammering in my chest, staring at the man who had just dismantled an empire’s political alliance in a matter of seconds.
Vincent turned to me. He looked at my pale face, then reached out, his warm, rough thumb brushing gently across my jawline where Cassandra’s gloved hand had touched me.
“Did she hurt you?” he asked softly.
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“No,” I whispered, looking into his deep gray eyes. “Gabriel... why did you cancel your wedding? Your family’s business—”
“My family’s business is protecting what is mine,” Vincent interrupted, his thumb lingering on my lip, his voice dropping into a low, possessive murmur. “And I have finally realized who belongs in this house.”
