Chapter 4 - Cruelty in the Shadows
The blizzard outside roared, dumping three feet of thick, impassable snow over the cliffside mansion. Power lines down the mountain were snapped by falling timber; the estate switched over to its heavy underground generators, casting long, eerie shadows across the stone halls.
Nora dragged the massive, water-heavy velvet drapes down the back stairwell, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Sharp pains shot through her lower back and abdomen. She leaned against the cold stone wall, clutching her stomach, tears slipping down her cheeks.
"Just a little longer, Lily," she whispered to her baby, her voice breaking. "Mama just needs to make it through the winter."
Knowing she couldn't handle the heavy laundry machines yet, Nora prioritized the only thing that mattered to her: Old John.
She slipped into the main kitchen while the head chef was busy preparing Lorenzo’s steak dinner. Risking immediate dismissal, Nora plated a fresh piece of roasted chicken, warm mashed potatoes, and a cup of hot chamomile tea. She hid the plate under a silver cover and made her way up to Room 4B.
When she pushed open the door, her heart shattered.
Mrs. Gable had left the balcony door slightly ajar to lower the room's temperature, wanting to make sure the old man looked frail for his son. The room was like an icebox. Giovanni sat near the corner, shivering violently, his bare hands bright red from the freezing cold.
"Oh my god! John!"
Nora dropped the tray onto a table, rushed to the balcony door, and slammed it shut, locking it tight. She ran into the closet, but his heated blanket was gone.
"Where is it? Where did she put it?" Nora muttered frantically, pulling down boxes until she found the heavy blanket stuffed behind old luggage.
She ran back to Giovanni, wrapping the thick blanket tightly around his shoulders. She fell to her knees before his wheelchair, taking his freezing, thick hands into her own, rubbing them fiercely to bring back the circulation.
"I'm so sorry, John. I'm so, so sorry," she cried, her tears falling directly onto his knuckles. "She's monster. They all are. They treat you like you don't exist..."
Giovanni looked down at her. His face remained frozen by his physical paralysis, but deep inside his eyes, an ocean of emotion raged. He felt the warmth of her small hands, the genuine, unselfish panic in her voice.
He slowly moved his jaw. A tiny, raspy sound—a sound he hadn't made in five years—stuck in his throat.
Nora was too panicked to notice. She picked up the fork, blew gently on the warm mashed potatoes, and brought it to his lips. "Eat, please. You need to stay warm."
As Giovanni accepted the food, he noticed something that made his blood boil. On Nora’s delicate neck, right near her collarbone, was a nasty, rising purple bruise where Mrs. Gable had shoved her against the doorframe earlier.
A dark, lethal rage settled over the former Mafia Don. He couldn't move his legs. He couldn't raise his arms. But as he looked at this poor, innocent girl protecting him in a house full of wolves, Giovanni made a silent vow.
Tonight, my son will tear this house apart.
Suddenly, the oak door swept open.
May you like
Lorenzo Moretti stood in the doorway, framed by two armed bodyguards. His gray eyes fell upon the scene: the maid on her knees, the warm tray of high-end food, and his father wrapped in a non-standard electric blanket.
"What," Lorenzo said, his voice dropping an octave into pure ice, "is going to go on in here?"
