Chapter 7 - THE SAFE HOUSE IN THE HILLS
We left through the back alley behind my garage.
Julian's men moved with terrifying precision. While two black SUVs staged a loud, distracting exit from the front lawn—drawing the silver Lexus into a slow, cautious pursuit down Queens Boulevard—Julian, Leo, the children, and I slipped into an unmarked gray armored van idling in the dark alley behind the alleyway fences.
Emma held my hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. Oliver fell asleep almost instantly in his father's arms, exhausted by the night's trauma.
We drove in complete silence for over an hour.
The low skyline of Queens faded into the dark, wooded expanses of northern New Jersey. The van climbed steep, winding mountain roads until we reached a massive wrought-iron estate gate embedded in a twelve-foot stone wall. Security cameras blinked red in the dark forest.
The gate slides open, and the van pulls into a long, brick driveway lined with towering pine trees, coming to a stop in front of a sprawling, slate-roofed stone manor.
“Where are we?” I asked, staring out the reinforced glass window.
“Bedminster,” Julian replied, setting the sleeping Oliver gently onto the leather seat beside him. “It's my primary safe house. The perimeter is monitored twenty-four hours a day by private security. Marcone doesn't even know this property exists.”
The driver opened the heavy side door.
The cold mountain air rushed in, smelling of crushed pine needles and woodsmoke.
Julian stepped out first, extending his hand to help me down. I ignored his hand, grabbing Emma's small backpack and lifting her down myself.
A tall, middle-aged woman in a crisp black wool dress was waiting on the broad stone steps of the manor. Her hair was pulled into a neat gray bun, her posture refined and professional.
“Welcome back, Don Julian,” she said with a respectful tilt of her head, her eyes landing on Emma and me with quiet curiosity. “The master suite and the guest quarters have been prepared as requested.”
“This is Mrs. Gable,” Julian said to me. “She manages the estate. Whatever you or Emma need, she will provide.”
“I need to go home,” I said flatly, looking Julian straight in the eyes under the bright entryway lanterns. “That's what I need.”
“That is the one thing I cannot give you tonight, Sophia,” Julian said quietly.
He turned to Mrs. Gables. “Take Oliver to his room. Then show Miss Bennett and her daughter to the east wing.”
“Come along, little one,” Mrs. Gable said gently, reaching out her hand for Oliver.
Oliver stirred and rubbed his eyes. "Daddy? Where is Emma going?"
“Emma is staying here tonight, Ollie,” Julian said, kneeling down to touch his son's cheek. “Go with Mrs. Gable. I will come say goodnight in a few minutes.”
Oliver nodded sleepily, allowing the woman to lead him up the grand double staircase.
Emma clutched my hand tighter, staring at the high vaulted ceilings, the crystal chandeliers, and the dark oil paintings hanging on the mahogany walls. It was a castle compared to our tiny, sunlit rental house in Queens, but to her, it felt like a gilded cage.
“Mommy,” Emma whispered, her voice echoing in the vast foyer. “I don't like this house. It's too big.”
May you like
“I know, sweetie,” I whispered back, kissing the top of her head. “We're just resting here for a little bit.”
“Sophia,” Julian spoke from behind us. “We need to talk. Alone.”
