Chapter 4 - The Truth Revealed to Nora
The storm outside the Cross estate had turned into a full-scale deluge by the time the armored SUV pulled through the iron gates.
Nora sat in the back seat, holding Wren tightly against her chest. The baby was warm, fed, and sleeping soundly, unaware that her entire existence had just become the most dangerous secret in the Midwest.
Instead of taking her back to the servants' quarters in the east wing, Stellan personally led Nora up the grand mahogany staircase toward the master penthouse wing—a place no staff member was ever permitted to enter.
"This is your home now," Stellan said flatly as he pushed open a pair of heavy double doors.
The suite was vast, framed by warm oak paneling, plush cashmere rugs, and a massive stone fireplace that crackled with fresh pine logs. Beyond the main parlor sat a nursery that looked as though it had been prepared for a royal child, complete with a hand-carved crib and silk blankets.
"I can't stay here," Nora said, her voice shaking as she backed away from the opulent room. "Mr. Cross—Stellan—please. I'm a maid. I clean your floors. I can't live in your private wing!"
Stellan turned slowly, looking down at her. "You are no longer a maid, Nora. You are the mother of my brother’s only child. Which means you are family. And in my world, family stays behind reinforced glass and armed guards."
Nora set Wren down in the soft center of the plush velvet sofa, her hands trembling as she turned to face him.
"Tell me the truth," she demanded, tears rising in her dark eyes. "Who was Liam? Really?"
Stellan walked over to a heavy wooden cabinet, poured two fingers of amber whiskey into a crystal tumbler, and drank it in a single burn.
"His name was Julian," Stellan said softly, staring into the amber liquid. "He was three years younger than me. When our father died in a turf war seven years ago, I took the throne. I took the blood, the guns, the deals. Julian hated every second of it. He wanted art, wood, quiet. Two years ago, he told me he was leaving. I gave him money, fake papers, and told him to never come back to Chicago."
Stellan’s jaw tightened, the scar on his face flushing a pale pink.
"He didn't leave Chicago," Stellan continued, his voice dropping into a bitter rasp. "He stayed right here, under my nose, playing carpenter on the South Side. Because he met you."
Nora’s breath hitched. "He stayed... for me?"
"Julian was a terrible liar," Stellan murmured, looking at her with an intensity that made Nora’s heart flutter in terror and confusion. "He stayed because he found something clean in a city made of filth. But our enemies—the Moretti syndicate—found him anyway. They couldn't hit me, so they tracked down the brother who had walked away. They ran him down in the street like a dog."
Nora pressed her hands against her face, letting out a ragged sob. "He never told me. He never said a word about any of this. He used to sit on our tiny porch and build birdhouses out of scrap oak..."
"He was trying to protect you," Stellan said quietly, stepping closer until he was standing directly over her. "If the Morettis had known he had a pregnant woman in a South Side apartment, they would have slaughtered you before Wren could take her first breath."
He reached out, his long, scarred fingers gently catching a stray tear on Nora’s cheek. The touch was so shockingly tender coming from a man who commanded an army of killers that Nora froze.
"Why?" Nora whispered, looking up into his storm-grey eyes. "Why tell me this now?"
"Because Vance Moretti—the head of the syndicate—is looking for Julian's lost ledger," Stellan said, his eyes going cold again. "When Julian left our family, he took a encrypted hard drive containing every bribed judge, every dirty politician, and every hidden bank account shared between the Crosses and the Morettis. If Vance gets that drive, he destroys my family. If he finds out Julian left a child... he will assume the child's mother knows where it is."
Nora’s blood ran cold. "I don't have a hard drive! I don't know anything about a ledger!"
"It doesn't matter what you know," Stellan growled softly. "Vance Moretti doesn't ask questions with a pen. He asks them with a blowtorch."
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He stepped back, pulling a heavy silver key from his pocket and laying it on the table beside her.
"From this moment on, you do not leave this wing without me," Stellan commanded. "You do not speak to the staff. You do not answer your phone. My men are stationed outside those doors twenty-four hours a day. You are safe here, Nora. But the world outside those gates just became a warzone."
