Chapter 5 - The Uninvited Guest
By evening, storm clouds had gathered over the lake, plastering heavy rain against the high arched windows of the estate.
Naomi sat at the dining room table on the main floor. A spread of rich, iron-dense foods—grilled salmon, steamed greens, and fresh broth—had been prepared by the private chef under Dr. Thorne’s strict instructions. Naomi picked at her food with a silver fork, her stomach still settling, while Adrian sat at the head of the table reviewing security manifests on a encrypted tablet.
It was a strange, tense imitation of domestic life.
“Your lawyer called my office again at four,” Adrian said without looking up from his screen. “She’s threatening to petition a judge for a welfare check if she doesn't speak to you directly by tomorrow morning.”
“She’s doing her job,” Naomi said quietly. “She thinks I’m being held against my will.”
“Are you?” Adrian asked, his dark eyes lifting to meet hers across the long mahogany table.
Naomi set her fork down. “If I walked to the front gate right now, would Marcus let me leave?”
Before Adrian could answer, the heavy double doors of the main entrance hall burst open.
The sharp clatter of urgent footsteps echoed off the marble foyer, followed by the deep, panicked voice of Marcus, the security chief. “Sir! You need to stay in the dining room!”
Adrian was on his feet in a fraction of a second. His right hand reached instinctively beneath his dark jacket, gripping the handle of the custom firearm concealed in his shoulder holster. He stepped in front of Naomi, shielding her completely behind his broad back.
“Marcus,” Adrian said calmly, his voice turning into ice. “Explain why someone is in my house.”
A woman’s heels clicked sharply against the marble.
A tall, striking woman in a tailored white trench coat walked past the security team, stepping directly into the doorway of the dining room. She had sharp blonde hair, piercing blue eyes, and carried an aura of cold, aristocratic power.
Julianna Vane.
The daughter of the late Carmine Vane—the legendary mob patriarch who had controlled the Midwest before Adrian took over the shipping routes. Julianna was not just mafia royalty; she was the woman Adrian’s family had tried to arrange for him to marry five years ago, before Adrian had met Naomi at an art restoration auction and shattered the alliance.
Julianna glanced at Marcus, who stood behind her with his gun half-drawn, waiting for Adrian’s command.
“Lower your weapon, Marcus,” Julianna said smoothly, shaking the rain from her designer umbrella. “Adrian isn't going to shoot an old friend.”
Adrian didn't lower his hand from his suit jacket. “You crossed my perimeter without an appointment, Julianna. That’s a dangerous mistake.”
Julianna’s eyes drifted past Adrian, landing directly on Naomi, who stood rigid behind his shoulder. A cruel, knowing smile spread across Julianna’s red lips.
“I came to deliver news in person, Adrian,” Julianna said, her voice dropping into a venomous purr. “The East Coast commission just held an emergency vote in New York. Because your divorce was scheduled for today, they officially declared your marriage dissolved under syndicate protocol.”
Naomi felt Adrian’s shoulders tense.
“And?” Adrian asked coldly.
Julianna stepped closer, her blue eyes gleaming with predatory triumph. “And without a legitimate wife or an declared heir to secure your family line, your claim to the harbor terminals expires at midnight. The commission has awarded the Pier 42 contract to Moretti.”
May you like
Julianna paused, her gaze dropping pointedly to Naomi’s flat stomach.
“Unless, of course,” Julianna added softly, “the rumors coming out of River North private clinic this morning are true… and the little art restorer is carrying something that changes the bloodline.”
