Chapter 3 - The Wolves at the Gate
A week passed in a blur of peaceful, surprising normalcy inside the heavily fortified Romano estate.
Ruby spent her days entirely devoted to Leo, teaching him how to paint with his fingers, baking cookies, and making him laugh out loud.
The sound of the toddler’s genuine, happy laughter echoing through the hallways caused the hardened, armed security guards to stop and smile in disbelief.
Vincent observed everything from a distance, watching her with dark, calculating, and increasingly possessive eyes.
He noticed the way she always wore the same three faded, oversized dresses, constantly trying to hide her beautiful, full figure from the world.
He noticed that she barely ate the gourmet meals prepared by his private chef, always insisting on eating the leftover scraps in the kitchen to save money.
Vincent wanted to ask her why she carried such a heavy, invisible burden of shame and exhaustion on her shoulders.
But before he could demand the truth from her, the dark, ugly reality of Ruby’s past violently caught up to her.
It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon when the sophisticated security alarms at the main gate began to chime a low, urgent warning.
Ruby was in the garden, holding an umbrella over Leo’s head as they jumped in the puddles, completely oblivious to the danger.
Vincent stood in his office overlooking the driveway, watching three heavily tattooed, aggressive men step out of a battered sedan at his gates.
His head of security, a massive enforcer named Dante, immediately rushed into the library.
"Boss, we have a minor problem at the front perimeter," Dante reported, his hand resting casually on his holstered weapon.
"Three low-level thugs claiming they work for a loan shark named Mickey Sullivan are demanding entry."
Vincent’s eyes narrowed into terrifying, lethal slits.
"Why is a pathetic street rat like Mickey Sullivan sending his garbage to my gates?" Vincent asked, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper.
"They claim your new nanny, Miss Jenkins, owes them twenty thousand dollars in unpaid medical debts," Dante explained carefully.
"They said if she doesn't come out and pay the interest today, they are going to break her legs."
The crystal whiskey glass in Vincent’s hand shattered completely under the sudden, violent pressure of his tightening grip.
Blood dripped from his palm onto the mahogany desk, but he did not feel a single ounce of pain.
He felt nothing but pure, unadulterated, blinding rage.
He looked out the window, watching Ruby laugh as she wiped a smudge of mud from his son’s smiling face.
She was the only beautiful, pure thing that had ever existed in his dark, violent world, and some pathetic loan shark was threatening to break her.
"Dante," Vincent commanded, his voice sounding like the heavy, dragging sound of a tombstone closing.
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"Get the armored car ready immediately, and gather a team of our best men."
"I am going to pay Mister Sullivan a personal visit, and I am going to make sure he never speaks a woman's name ever again."
