Chapter 6 - The Sabotage
While Julian was rushing back from Manhattan, dark clouds were gathering over the Moretti estate.
Eleanor Moretti had not accepted defeat. Humiliated by Emma’s sharp retort and furious that her son was slipping out of her sphere of influence, Eleanor had decided to take matters into her own hands.
She arrived at the estate just after noon, accompanied by a sleek, sharp-faced woman named Victoria Sterling—a high-society fixer known for quietly cleaning up scandals for wealthy Manhattan families.
Emma was in the kitchen preparing organic apple slices for the boys’ lunch when the heavy oak doors swung open.
Eleanor marched into the kitchen with Victoria right behind her.
“Emma Brooks,” Eleanor announced, her voice dripping with venom. “Your employment here is terminated. Effective immediately.”
Emma wiped her hands on a dish towel and turned around, her expression calm but alert. “Mrs. Moretti, unless Julian fired me—which he didn't—you have no legal authority to dismiss me. I am under contract with the estate.”
Victoria Sterling stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the tile. She pulled a manila folder from her briefcase and dropped it onto the counter.
“Miss Brooks,” Victoria purred, her voice smooth and oily. “We don't need legal authority. We have a dossier. Background checks, previous employment records, financial audits. Did you know your former brother-in-law filed an affidavit claiming you were unstable and unfit to care for children?”
Emma’s face went pale. The ghost of her custody battle—the most painful, humiliating chapter of her life—had just been dragged out into the harsh fluorescent light of the kitchen.
“That was a lie fabricated by a wealthy man with expensive lawyers,” Emma whispered, her voice shaking slightly. “The judge didn't rule against me because I was unfit; he ruled against me because I couldn't afford a thirty-thousand-dollar legal retainer!”
“The court of public opinion doesn't care about nuances, my dear,” Victoria smiled coldly. “If you don't pack your bags and leave this estate within the hour, I will leak these court documents to every major tabloid in New York. Imagine the headlines: Mafia Billionaire’s Nanny Exposed as Unfit Guardian. How do you think Julian’s board of directors will react to that?”
Emma looked at the manila folder. Her heart hammered against her ribs. She thought of Leo, Lucas, and Liam—the three little boys who had finally started laughing again, who looked at her with unconditional love.
If she stayed, she would bring a media circus crashing down on Julian’s head.
If she left, she would be abandoning three children who had already lost their mother.
Tears welled in Emma’s eyes, but she blinked them back, squaring her shoulders with fierce, unbreakable dignity.
“You’re a cruel, miserable woman,” Emma said quietly to Eleanor.
Before Eleanor could reply, the kitchen doors burst open with a resounding crash.
Julian stood in the doorway, his suit jacket off, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his dark eyes burning with an apocalyptic fury that made both Eleanor and Victoria take an involuntary step backward.
“Get out,” Julian whispered.
His voice wasn't loud. It was a low, terrifying growl that echoed off the stone walls like thunder.
“Julian, darling,” Eleanor stammered, losing her aristocratic composure for the first time. “We were just—we were protecting the family name from—!”
“I said, get out,” Julian repeated, stepping into the kitchen. He grabbed the manila folder off the counter, ripped it in half with his bare hands, and threw the pieces into the sink. “If either of you ever steps foot on my property again, I won't just cut you out of my will, Mother. I will legally bar you from ever seeing my children again. Now. Out.”
Victoria didn't wait to be told twice. She grabbed her briefcase and hurried toward the front doors. Eleanor glared at Emma with pure, undiluted hatred, turned on her heel, and stormed out of the house, slamming the oak doors behind her.
Julian watched them leave, then turned slowly around to face Emma.
Emma was standing by the counter, trembling, a single tear tracking down her cheek.
“Emma,” Julian breathed, crossing the kitchen in two long strides. “Are you alright?”
“I’m sorry,” Emma choked out, looking down at the floor. “I didn't want to bring my past into your life. I didn't want to hurt you or the boys.”
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Julian didn't hesitate. He reached out, cupped her face in both hands, and wiped the tear from her cheek with his thumb.
“You didn't bring anything into my life, Emma, except life itself,” Julian said fiercely. “My mother doesn't dictate who stays in this house. I do. And you are not going anywhere.”
