Chapter 8 - The Shadow at the Window
By the third week, the estate had developed a new rhythm.
I took over the daily routines—helping the kids with their online schooling, arranging private tutors that Victor hired, and working with the estate chef to cook home-style meals the kids actually liked. Victor began coming home earlier from his "business meetings," often sitting in the living room while Leo showed him his drawing books or while Jamal asked him how engines worked.
The fear was melting away, replaced by something resembling a real family.
But in Victor’s world, peace was always a temporary illusion.
Late one evening, after the children were asleep, I walked down to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. The grand house was quiet, lit only by soft wall sconces.
As I passed the glass doors leading out to the rear courtyard, I noticed a dark figure standing outside in the freezing rain.
It was Victor. He was wearing a dark shirt, holding an unlit cigar, staring out into the dark garden.
I grabbed a thick wool throw blanket from the sofa, pushed the heavy glass door open, and stepped out into the cold night air.
"You're going to catch pneumonia," I said softly, draping the blanket over his broad shoulders.
Victor didn't startle. He adjusted the blanket, looking down at me with a tired, heavy gaze. "You should be asleep, Mari."
"So should you," I replied, leaning against the stone pillar beside him. "What's wrong, Victor? You've had six guards posted at the front gate all day."
Victor let out a long breath, the cold air turning his breath into white steam. "The state inspector, Reynolds. She didn't let it go."
My heart sank. "What do you mean?"
"She went to the state attorney general," Victor said, his voice dropping into a dangerous gravel. "She couldn't break the Vance Foundation trust legally, so she contacted an old rival of mine—Donovan Rossi. She leaked the location of the kids to him, claiming I was using state-protected orphans to hide criminal assets."
"Rossi?" I whispered, the name sending a chill through my blood. Rossi was the head of the South Boston faction—a ruthless, unpredictable man who had been at war with Victor's family for years.
"Rossi wants a war," Victor said, looking out into the dark. "He thinks if he can snatch one of the kids—especially Leo—he can force me to hand over the Boston port terminals."
I stepped closer to him, grabbing his arm. His muscles were hard as iron beneath his shirt. "Victor... we have to take the kids and run. We can go north, out of state—"
"No," Victor interrupted, turning to face me. He reached out, his large, warm hand gently cupping the side of my face, his thumb softly tracing my cheekbone. "I spent four years running from my past, Mari. It cost me my daughter. I am not running anymore."
I looked into his dark gray eyes, feeling the intense, overwhelming heat of his proximity. My heart hammered wildly against my chest.
"I won't let anything happen to you, Mari," Victor whispered, his voice thick with raw, protective emotion. "Or any of those kids. I promise you on my life."
"I know," I breathed, leaning slightly into his touch.
May you like
For a second, the universe shrank down to just the two of us standing in the cold rain. Victor leaned down slowly, his lips resting softly against mine in a warm, lingering kiss that made my soul tremble.
Then, a sudden, sharp explosion echoed from the front gate.
