Chapter 2 - The Don’s Request
For three days, Emma did not leave the hospital suite. She slept in a recliner beside the incubators, waking every two hours as Anthony and Lucia stirred. The change in the twins was miraculous. Within forty-eight hours, their pale skin bloomed with healthy pink undertones. Their weight stabilized, then began to climb. The monitors that had chimed frantic warnings for weeks grew quiet, displaying steady, strong heartbeats.
On the third evening, the door opened quietly, and Gabriel Moretti stepped inside alone.
He was freshly shaved, wearing a clean charcoal suit, though the shadow of grief remained heavy around his dark eyes. He looked at Emma, who was sitting in the dim light, softly singing a lullaby while Lucia slept against her shoulder.
"The doctors tell me they can be discharged tomorrow," Gabriel said. His voice was low, deep, and carried a natural resonance that demanded attention without ever needing to be raised. "Because of you."
Emma adjusted the light blanket over the baby. "They are strong little fighters, Mr. Moretti. They just needed what nature intended for them."
Gabriel stepped closer, stopping two feet from her chair. He looked down at his daughter’s peaceful face, his expression softening in a way that few men in New York had ever been permitted to see.
"My name is Gabriel," he said quietly. "And I owe you two lives, Miss Brooks."
"You owe me nothing," Emma replied, her voice filled with gentle melancholy. "Your children gave my body a purpose when I thought I was losing my mind. They saved me as much as I saved them."
Gabriel studied her face. He saw no greed in her eyes, no ambition, no recognition of his wealth or the lethal reputation that made men tremble from Wall Street to the docks of New Jersey. He saw only a woman whose soul had been shattered by the same cold blade of grief that had struck him.
"Donor milk won't work," Gabriel said firmly. "The specialists tested your milk yesterday against three control samples. The babies will take only yours. If you walk away tomorrow and return to your life, they will relapse within forty-eight hours."
Emma looked up, her hand gently stroking Lucia’s soft head. "What are you asking?"
"I am asking you to come with us," Gabriel said. "Come to my estate in Westchester. I will build you a private wing. You will have full staff, total security, and whatever financial stipend you demand. Stay until they are old enough to transition to solid food."
Emma hesitated. "Mr. Moretti... Gabriel... I have a home. I have a small craft shop in Astoria. My sister—"
"Your shop will be preserved, paid for, and maintained," Gabriel interrupted, his tone gentle but unyielding. "Your sister may visit whenever she wishes. I am not asking you to become a servant, Emma. I am asking you to be the life force keeping my children alive. Name your price."
Emma looked down at Lucia, then across at Anthony sleeping soundly in his bassinet. She thought of her empty apartment, the crib that smelled of unused paint, and the suffocating silence waiting for her in Astoria.
May you like
"I don't want your money, Gabriel," Emma whispered, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I only want to protect them."
Gabriel bowed his head with profound respect. "Then come home with us."
