Chapter 2 - The Doctor in the Dead of Night
Room four of the carriage house annex was little more than a converted storage loft, smelling faintly of damp brick and old wool.
When Adrien pushed the door open with his shoulder, the blast of dry, overheated air hit him like a physical blow. On the narrow single bed, Grace Williams lay curled into a tight ball, shivering violently beneath a patchwork quilt. Her dark hair was plastered to her sweat-slicked forehead, and her breathing came in shallow, ragged hitches.
“Mama?” Zoe whispered, wriggling out of Adrien’s arms the moment he set her down on the floor. She scrambled onto the mattress, patting her mother’s burning cheek with a small, soot-stained hand. “Mama, wake up. The boss man is here. But he’s nice, Mama. He didn’t yell.”
Grace stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal clouded, fever-bright eyes. For a second, she looked at Adrien standing in the doorway—his massive silhouette blocking out the dim hallway light—and absolute terror flickered across her pale face.
“Mr... Mr. Romano,” she choked out, her voice cracking like dry parchment. She tried to sit up, but her body betrayed her, collapsing back against the pillows with a weak groan. “I’m... I’m sorry. I was supposed to be downstairs by five. I took a fever... just a little fever... I can work, I swear I can—”
“Lie down, Grace,” Adrien said, his voice dropping into that quiet, absolute command that made seasoned capos drop their weapons.
She froze, terrified.
Adrien stepped into the room, his eyes sweeping over the meager surroundings. A hot plate on a warped wooden table, half a loaf of bread, a flickering digital clock showing 9:42 p.m. This was how people lived under his roof while his estate managers billed the foundation thousands of dollars for staff welfare.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, his thumb moving with cold efficiency.
“Vance,” Adrien said when the line connected on the first ring.
“Boss? I thought you weren't back until Friday—”
“Get Marcus and bring Dr. Harrison to the main estate within twenty minutes. If you take twenty-one, I’ll feed you to the lake.”
“Boss, what’s—?”
The line went dead with a sharp click.
Adrien turned back to Grace, who was clutching the blanket to her chest, trembling from more than just the illness.
“You’re fired,” Adrien said flatly.
Grace let out a sound like a small animal being crushed. Tears spilled over her lashes, cutting clean tracks through the dust on her cheeks. “Please... please, Mr. Romano. We have nowhere else. Don't put Zoe out in the snow. I’ll pay back every cent for the medicine, I’ll—5”
“You misheard me,” Adrien interrupted, his tone unyielding. “You are fired from cleaning shoes and scrubbing marble. Starting tomorrow morning, you are relocating to the main east wing guest suite. And you are going to stay in bed until Harrison clears you.”
Zoe looked up from the edge of the bed, her big eyes darting between her mother and the towering, terrifying man who owned the world.
“Does that mean... we get to stay in the warm house?” Zoe asked softly.
May you like
Adrien looked down at the child. For the first time in his life, the ghosts of his own lonely childhood—raised by a father who measured affection in currency and power—seemed to step forward and whisper in his ear.
“You stay,” Adrien said, crouching down so he was eye-level with the little girl. He reached out and gently flicked a smudge of black polish off the tip of her nose. “And tomorrow, we get you some proper paints. The kind that don't ruin my shoes.”
