Chapter 4 - Shadows in the Estate
The atmosphere in the house changed overnight. The number of armed guards patrolling the grounds tripled. Heavy metal shutters were drawn over the lower windows at dusk. The estate felt less like a mansion and more like a fortress preparing for a siege. Belle kept Micah and Brinley restricted to the inner rooms, playing board games and reading stories to keep their minds off the tension.
Renick was rarely seen. When he was home, he was locked in his study, shouting over secure phone lines. The war with the Moretti family was escalating. Rumors spread among the remaining staff like wildfire. The Morettis wanted control of the docks, and they were willing to wipe out Renick’s entire bloodline to get it. Belle’s maternal instincts screamed at her to pack her bags and run far away.
One night, unable to sleep, Belle went down to the massive kitchen to get a glass of warm milk. The house was eerily silent. As she poured the milk, she heard a muffled sound from the hallway. She crept toward the door and peered out. Renick was sitting on the bottom step of the grand staircase, his head in his hands. His knuckles were bruised and bloodied. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat beside him.
Belle should have gone back upstairs. Instead, her bare feet carried her out into the hall. She sat down on the step next to him. He didn't look up, but he knew she was there. “You should leave, Belle,” he whispered, his voice completely hollow. “Take Micah and go. I’ll give you enough money to disappear. Go to California. Start over.”
Belle looked at his bruised hands. “Is it that bad?” she asked. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” he admitted, finally lifting his head. His eyes were bloodshot and haunted. “They don’t just want my territory. They want to finish what they started two years ago. They want Brinley.” Belle gasped, a cold dread pooling in her stomach. “They’re animals, Belle. And I dragged you and your innocent boy right into the middle of it.”
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“I’m not leaving,” Belle said. The words surprised even her, but once they were out, she knew they were true. “Brinley needs Micah. And... I think you need us.” Renick turned to her, his expression a mix of shock and agonizing hope. He slowly reached out, his large, rough hand hovering over hers before finally resting on top of it. His touch was surprisingly warm, surprisingly gentle.
“You don't belong in this darkness, Belle.” “Maybe I’m here to turn on the lights,” she replied softly. They sat there in the quiet mansion, a maid and a mafia king, finding solace in the briefest of touches. But upstairs, in the shadows of the second-floor landing, someone was watching them. Sully Byrne stood in the dark, his eyes narrowed with pure, toxic hatred. In his mind, Renick had gone soft. A boss who let a maid dictate his emotions was a weak boss. And in their world, weakness was a death sentence.
