Chapter 6 - When the Walls Cave In
Claire stood by the window, the mug growing cold between her fingers. For five long minutes, she didn't move. She watched the man who had torn her dignity to shreds sitting on her porch like an abandoned dog, letting the wet snow accumulate on the shoulders of his coat.
Part of her wanted to lock the deadbolt, draw the thick canvas curtains, and ignore him until the cold drove him back to his ivory tower in Manhattan. He deserved the bitter cold. He deserved to feel the raw, biting sting of isolation.
Then she saw him shiver—a violent, involuntary shudder that shook his massive frame. He had no gloves. His hands, buried in his pockets, were red and stiff.
Claire took a deep, steadying breath, closed her eyes, and placed her hand over her stomach. Be calm, little one, she thought. We are stronger than him now.
She walked to the heavy wooden door, turned the brass deadbolt with a loud, deliberate click, and pulled it open.
Adrian turned his head instantly at the sound. He scrambled to his feet, nearly losing his balance on the icy wooden boards. He stepped back toward the railing, keeping his distance, his dark eyes wide with shock and guilt.
“Claire,” he said, his voice raw, hoarse from the wind. Snowflakes clung to his dark eyelashes and the graying stubble on his cheeks. “I didn't mean to scare you. I… I’m leaving. I just needed to see with my own eyes that you were all right.”
Claire looked at him, her expression carved from stone. “You drove three hours in a blizzard to freeze on my porch?”
“I didn't know what else to do,” he admitted, looking down at his boots. “I didn't have the right to knock. I don't have the right to speak to you. But I couldn't breathe in that city anymore knowing what I did to you.”
The wind whipped across the porch, sending a spray of icy snow swirling between them. Claire watched him for another silent, agonizing moment.
“Get inside,” she said bluntly, turning her back on him and walking back into the cottage. “Before you catch pneumonia on my porch and bring the police to my door.”
Adrian stepped across the threshold hesitatingly, as if stepping onto sacred ground. He took off his wet boots at the door, leaving them on the mat, and stood in his wool socks, his dripping coat held awkwardly in his hands.
The cottage was warm, filled with the aroma of cedar smoke, chamomile tea, and cinnamon. It was humble, simple, and utterly devoid of the cold opulence that defined the Moretti estate.
“Hang it by the stove,” Claire ordered without looking at him, walking toward the small kitchen counter. She poured a fresh cup of hot tea and set it on the small wooden dining table. “Sit.”
Adrian hung his wet coat by the cast-iron stove and walked stiffly to the table. He sat down, wrapping his frozen, trembling hands around the mug, inhaling the steam. He looked around the room, noticing a pair of tiny knitted baby booties sitting on the credenza next to an open medical journal.
His throat closed up with emotion. “Thank you.”
Claire sat opposite him, keeping the small table firmly between them. She folded her arms across her chest, her demeanor unyielding.
“Celeste is in federal custody,” Adrian said quietly, his gaze fixed on the dark amber liquid in his cup. “Her bail was denied. Her assets are frozen. The evidence of her fraud, the wiretaps, the medical tampering—it’s all in the hands of the United States Attorney. She will spend the next two decades in prison.”
Claire didn't blink. “Good.”
“I didn't come to tell you that to earn credit,” Adrian continued, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. The sheer depth of pain in his face shocked her. The ruthless titan was gone; only a shattered man remained. “I came to tell you that I gave up the managing partnership of Moretti Capital yesterday. Vincent has taken over.”
Claire’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You walked away from your empire?”
“It was never an empire,” Adrian whispered, a tear escaping his eye and tracking down through his stubble. “It was a cage. My father taught me that everyone had an angle, that everyone could be bought, and that trust was a luxury meant for fools. I lived by that code for forty years. And then God gave me you. A woman who loved me without asking for a dime, without playing games. And when the devil whispered in my ear, I reverted back to the monster my father made me.”
He reached across the table, his hand trembling, hovering an inch above hers, waiting for permission. When she didn't pull away, his fingers gently brushed the back of her hand.
“I don't expect you to take me back, Claire,” he wept silently. “I destroyed something sacred. But please… don't let our son grow up thinking his father didn't want him. I loved him from the second you showed me that test. I love him more than my own life.”
May you like
Before Claire could answer, a sharp, sudden gasp tore from her throat. She gripped the edge of the wooden table, her knuckles whitening as her entire body tensed.
Adrian leaped to his feet in an instant, his instincts taking over. “Claire? What is it? Is it the baby?”
