Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the Sunroom
When Gabriel arrived home at 5:45 PM, the sun was setting behind the rolling hills of Westchester, casting long, golden shadows across the estate's sprawling lawn.
He walked into the grand foyer, dropping his coat onto a chair. The house was quiet, but as he stepped toward the sunroom, he heard the faint sound of music. A soft, lilting melody played on the old upright piano that sat near the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Gabriel stopped at the threshold, keeping himself hidden in the shadows of the hallway.
Hannah was sitting at the piano. She was playing a gentle, melancholy classical piece, her long fingers moving across the keys with effortless grace.
Sitting on the floor near her feet were Claire and Sophie. Claire was sitting upright, holding a plastic ball, her weak right leg extended forward without her heavy braces. Sophie was leaning against Hannah's knees, fast asleep.
Gabriel watched them. There was an aura of peace in the room—an environment so completely detached from the brutal, violent world he had just left at Pier 42 that it felt almost surreal. For seven years, this house had been a fortress, guarded by surveillance cameras and armed men. But in eleven days, this unknown woman had turned it into a home.
As the final note of the song faded, Claire looked up at Hannah. "Play it again, Hannah. The song about the moon."
Hannah smiled down at the little girl, reaching out to gently brush a strand of dark hair from Claire's forehead. "No more songs tonight, sweet girl. It's almost time for dinner. And remember what your dad promised?"
"He said he's coming home!" Claire said proudly.
"And he always keeps his promises," Gabriel said, stepping out from the shadow of the doorway.
Claire gasped, her face lighting up with unbridled joy. "Daddy!"
She immediately pushed herself off the floor. Gabriel held his breath, his instinct telling him to rush forward and catch her. But he forced himself to stay still.
Claire took one step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
Four.
Five.
On the sixth step, her knee wobbled, but instead of falling, she caught herself against Gabriel's trousers, wrapping her tiny arms around his leg.
Gabriel dropped to his knees, pulling Claire into his arms and lifting her high against his chest. He closed his eyes, burying his face in her soft neck as her small hands clutched his collar.
"Six steps," Gabriel whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "You took six steps."
"I reached the moon, Daddy!" Claire giggled happily.
"Yes, you did," Gabriel murmured. He looked over Claire's shoulder at Hannah, who had stood up from the piano bench and was quietly picking up Sophie from the floor.
"She worked very hard today," Hannah said softly, holding the sleeping twin against her shoulder. "Her balance is improving every hour."
Gabriel stood up, carrying Claire. He looked at Hannah with a complex mixture of gratitude, suspicion, and a strange, unbidden heat that flared in his chest.
"Dinner is served in ten minutes, Mr. Moretti," Hannah said, turning toward the hallway to put Sophie to bed.
"Hannah," Gabriel called out.
She paused, looking back at him over her shoulder. "Yes, sir?"
Gabriel stared at her, noticing for the first time the tiny, barely visible scar near her hairline—a scar that looked suspiciously like a bullet graze.
"Thank you," Gabriel said quietly.
Hannah's brown eyes softened, a faint, genuine smile gracing her lips. "She's worth it."
Later that evening, after the girls were fast asleep in their bedrooms, Gabriel sat in his dimly lit study. He wasn't reviewing financial ledgers. He was watching the security monitor.
CAM 12 — SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY.
Hannah was walking toward her private room at the end of the servant's wing. She carried a small tray with a cup of tea. She opened her door, stepped inside, and closed it behind her.
Gabriel picked up his master control pad and switched to the internal camera inside her room—a camera that had been installed years ago for security purposes.
He saw Hannah set her tea down on the nightstand. She walked over to her suitcase, pulled it out from under the bed, and unlocked a hidden bottom compartment.
Gabriel's eyes narrowed as he watched the screen.
From the secret compartment, Hannah pulled out a heavy black object.
It was a Sig Sauer 9mm handgun.
She checked the magazine, chambered a round with practiced, expert efficiency, engaged the safety, and slipped the weapon under her pillow.
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Gabriel leaned back in his chair, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Hannah Mercer wasn't just a child therapist running from trouble. She was a trained operative. And she was sleeping under the same roof as his children with a loaded gun under her head.
