Chapter 3 - The Fortress in Westchester
The Moretti estate, known as Greystone Manor, sat behind twelve-foot wrought-iron gates on eighty acres of heavily wooded land overlooking the Hudson River. It was a magnificent stone mansion built in the 1920s, fortified with modern security cameras, bulletproof glass, and a small army of discreetly armed men in dark suits.
Emma was given a sunlit suite on the second floor, directly connected to the grand nursery. The rooms were filled with fresh flowers, soft rugs, and a private balcony overlooking the frozen gardens below.
Yet, despite the luxury, an underlying tension hummed through the estate like an invisible electrical current.
On her second morning at the estate, Emma met Gabriel’s inner circle during breakfast in the nursery parlor.
There was Uncle Marcus, Gabriel’s fifty-eight-year-old consigliere—a tall, impeccably dressed man with silver hair and razor-sharp blue eyes that seemed to evaluate every person in the room as a potential threat or asset. Beside him stood Mateo, Gabriel’s broad-shouldered head of security, whose sharp gaze never left the doors.
Finally, there was Dr. Julian Harrison, the Moretti family’s personal physician, a smooth-talking man in his late forties who had overseen Isabella’s medical care during her pregnancy.
"Miss Brooks," Uncle Marcus said, bowing slightly with courtly grace. "We are eternally in your debt for what you are doing for the family heirs. However, you must understand that life at Greystone requires strict discipline. You are not to leave the grounds without security, nor are you to discuss the children with anyone outside these walls."
"I have no desire to speak to anyone, Mr. Moretti," Emma said quietly, cradling Anthony against her shoulder. "My focus is entirely on the infants."
Dr. Harrison stepped forward, holding a silver tray with two small amber bottles and a syringe.
"To ensure the twins receive maximum nutrition, Miss Brooks, I have prepared a specialized vitamin compound," Harrison said, offering a practiced smile. "It is to be mixed with their infant supplements before each feeding."
Emma glanced down at the liquid. It had a faint, strange greenish hue beneath the light. Her instincts—sharpened by years of working with delicate antique polishes and herbal stains in her craft shop—stirred uncomfortably.
"The babies are thriving on my natural milk alone, Dr. Harrison," Emma said politely, stepping back slightly. "Their weight has increased by six ounces in three days. I prefer not to introduce synthetic compounds unless medically necessary."
Harrison’s smile tightened. "I am the family physician, Miss Brooks. I know what the Moretti heirs require."
"And I am the one feeding them," Emma replied, her soft voice carrying a sudden, immovable strength. "Until Gabriel tells me otherwise, they take only what my body provides."
In the doorway, unseen by the others, Gabriel stood watching the exchange. A subtle flick of amusement touched his eyes before his expression returned to stone.
"If Emma says no supplements, Harrison," Gabriel’s deep voice boomed into the room, "then there are no supplements."
May you like
Dr. Harrison lowered the tray immediately, bowing his head. "Of course, Don Gabriel. As you wish."
As the doctor walked out, Emma caught the briefest glance between Harrison and Uncle Marcus. It was quick, almost imperceptible, but it was cold enough to make the hair on her arms stand up.
