Chapter 3 - The Summons
The knock on her door came at precisely three o'clock in the morning.
It wasn't a loud, aggressive pounding, but a firm, rhythmic sound that carried an undeniable weight. Noelle bolted upright in bed, her heart immediately leaping into her throat. She hadn't slept; she had spent the last four hours staring at the ceiling, her mind running through every detail of her delivery at Saint Jude’s.
She stood up, her limbs stiff and sore from the cold. She walked slowly toward the door, her hand shaking as she reached for the deadbolt.
“Who is it?” she asked, her voice barely louder than the hum of the old refrigerator.
“Mrs. Bishop,” a deep, polite voice replied from the other side of the wood. “My name is Reyes. We met at the diner earlier tonight. I’m here on behalf of Mr. Marchetti.”
The guard with the scar.
Noelle took a step back, her back hitting the small kitchen counter. “I... I don't want any trouble. I don't have anything to do with him.”
“There’s no trouble, ma'am,” Reyes said, his voice calm and steady through the door. “But the children won't stop crying. They’ve been screaming since we left the diner. Mr. Marchetti requested your presence at the estate. We have a car waiting downstairs.”
“I can't,” Noelle whispered, her tears starting again. “I don't belong in that house. I don't belong near those children.”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Bishop,” Reyes said, and there was a soft, almost sympathetic note in his voice now. “I’ve been with the boss for ten years. I’ve never seen him look the way he did tonight when those kids called you 'Mama.' He doesn't want to hurt you. He wants answers. And right now, those babies need you.”
They need you.
The words acted like a key in a lock. The empty, aching space in Noelle’s arms seemed to expand, demanding to be filled. If those children were her babies, if they were her flesh and blood, she would walk through fire to get to them.
She unlocked the door.
Reyes was standing in the dim, yellow light of the hallway. He was wearing his heavy overcoat, his hands clasped in front of him. He looked at her with a quiet, respectful expression, his eyes moving briefly to her wet curls and her oversized, worn clothes before settling back on her face.
“Thank you,” Reyes said, stepping aside to let her pass. “I’ll carry your bag if you have one.”
“I don't have a bag,” Noelle said, pulling her damp coat back over her shoulders. “Let’s go.”
The ride to the Marchetti estate was silent. Noelle sat in the back of a massive, black armored sedan, watching the neon signs of the city fade into the dark, rolling hills of the suburbs. The rain had slowed to a mist, coating the winding roads in a silver sheen.
The estate was surrounded by a towering iron fence, the gates opening silently as the car approached. The house itself was a massive, stone mansion that looked more like a fortress than a home, its dark windows reflecting the pale moonlight.
Reyes opened her door and led her up the stone steps. The front door was opened by an older woman in a neat, black dress, her face pale and lined with worry.
“Oh, thank God,” the woman whispered, looking at Noelle. “They’re in the nursery, second floor. Damian is... he’s at his wits' end.”
As Noelle stepped into the grand foyer, the sound hit her.
It was the same screaming from the diner, but louder now, echoing off the high, marble walls of the mansion. The three voices were hoarse, desperate, and entirely inconsolable.
Noelle didn't wait for Reyes. She followed the sound, her feet moving with a sudden, instinctual speed up the grand staircase. She pushed open the double doors of the nursery at the end of the hall.
The room was beautiful, decorated in soft grays and whites, filled with expensive toys and hand-carved cribs. But the beauty of the room was entirely eclipsed by the chaos inside.
The three infants were in their cribs, their faces purple from crying, their small bodies shaking with exhaustion. Damian Marchetti was standing in the center of the room, his jacket gone, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair messy as he held the little girl against his shoulder. He was rocking her, his large hand gently patting her back, but his face was a mask of pure, helpless frustration.
When the door opened, his head snapped up. His cold, blue eyes locked onto Noelle.
“They’ve been like this for four hours,” he said, his voice rough and tired. “The nanny couldn't do anything. The doctor said they’re healthy, just... agitated. But they won't sleep.”
Noelle didn't say a word. She walked past him, her eyes fixed on the cribs.
She approached the first boy—the one who had thrown the rabbit. He was lying on his back, his little chest heaving with silent, hiccuping sobs.
Noelle reached down and lifted him into her arms. He felt so light, so incredibly fragile against her chest. She held him close, her chin resting on his soft, dark curls as she began to sway, her voice dropping into that same, rhythmic melody she had used at the diner.
“Shh, sweetie,” she murmured, her voice a warm blanket in the cold, tense room. “Mommy’s here. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
The boy’s crying stopped almost instantly. He let out a long, shuddering sigh, his tiny fingers wrapping around the collar of her damp shirt, and buried his face in her neck.
Noelle turned toward the second crib. She reached down with her free arm and lifted the second boy, balancing him against her other hip. He too fell silent the moment his skin touched hers, his little head dropping onto her shoulder with a sigh of relief.
Damian stood frozen, watching her. The little girl in his arms had stopped screaming, her hazel eyes locked onto Noelle’s face as she let out a tiny, whimpering sound.
Noelle stepped toward him. She looked up into his cold, handsome face, her eyes filled with a quiet, unyielding strength.
“Give her to me,” she said.
Damian slowly lowered the girl into Noelle’s arms. With all three babies nestled against her chest, Noelle sat down in the large, plush rocking chair in the corner of the room. She closed her eyes, her tears finally falling as she rocked her children, the empty spaces in her arms finally, beautifully filled.
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Within five minutes, the nursery was completely, beautifully silent. All three babies were fast asleep, their breathing synchronized, their tiny bodies relaxed against hers.
Damian stood over her, his eyes dark and unreadable as he stared down at the woman who had just silenced his entire world with a single whisper.
