Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the Nursery
The East Wing suite was magnificent, decorated in calming shades of slate gray and deep navy, but Bianca did not sleep.
She spent the first hours of her wedding night sitting by the enormous arched window, looking out over the moonlit lawns that sloped down toward the river. Her mind raced with Mason’s parting words. A very convenient lie about what happened to my first wife.
For years, the public narrative surrounding Claire Duca’s death had been treated as a tragic, untouchable taboo in elite New York circles. According to the official police reports and the glowing obituary published in the Times, Claire had suffered a catastrophic placental abruption during her eighth month of pregnancy. Despite the frantic efforts of a private surgical team brought in by Mason, both she and the infant son had perished on the operating table.
Mason had retreated into total isolation for two years after that, shuttering half his businesses and executing a ruthless corporate purge of every associate who had failed to meet his standards.
When he finally returned to public life, he was a different man—colder, sharper, and utterly untouchable.
At 4:00 a.m., unable to bear the confinement of the bedroom any longer, Bianca slipped out into the silent corridor. The manor was vast, and her footsteps echoed softly against the antique runners. She walked past a heavy mahogany door that stood slightly ajar at the far end of the wing.
A faint, pale line of light cut across the dark floorboards.
Driven by an instinct she couldn't name, Bianca pushed the door open and stepped inside.
It was a nursery.
Unlike the rest of the estate, which was pristine and austere, this room was frozen in time. A mobile of hand-painted wooden stars hung motionless over an empty white crib. A rocking chair sat beside an unlit fireplace, draped with a soft blue cashmere blanket. Shelves lined with classic children’s books stood dust-free, as though someone entered every single day to clean them.
In the center of the room, standing beside the crib with his back to her, was Mason.
He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the muscular lines of his forearms. In his hands, he held a small, silver-plated baby rattle, turning it over and over in his palm with a look of such desolate, crushing grief that Bianca felt a physical ache in her own chest.
She realized then why he had married her. It wasn't just about shipping routes or corporate strategy.
"You don't believe she died of natural causes," Bianca said softly into the quiet room.
Mason didn't jump. He didn't drop the rattle. He simply lowered his hands and turned slowly to face her, his features locked back into their usual mask of impenetrable iron.
"You're awake," he said, his voice flat.
"I couldn't sleep," Bianca replied, stepping further into the room. Her eyes swept over the pristine, heartbreaking details of the nursery. "My parents told everyone you were looking for an alliance. But you’re looking for a ghost-hunter, aren't you?"
Mason walked slowly toward her, stopping a few feet away. The ambient light from the hallway caught the hard angles of his jaw.
"The medical records from Claire’s death were sealed by a federal judge within twenty-four hours," Mason said quietly. "The surgical team vanished to Zurich the following week. The death certificates listed natural complications. But my wife was a healthy, vibrant woman who wanted that child more than her own life. Women like Claire don't simply bleed out on an operating table unless someone makes sure they do."
Bianca stared at him, the pieces of a terrifying puzzle beginning to click together in her mind. "And the Romanos? My father... did he have something to do with it?"
"Victor Romano was a mid-level logistics broker back then, scrambling to crawl out of debt," Mason said, his eyes narrowing. "When my son died, the only family positioned to immediately absorb Duca Maritime’s lucrative trans-Atlantic shipping contracts was your father’s firm. Within six months, Victor’s struggling company became a multi-million-dollar empire."
A cold shudder ran down Bianca’s spine. Her entire life had been built on the foundation of her father’s success—a success she had spent twelve years protecting, believing it was earned through shrewd business acumen.
"You think my father murdered your wife and child to steal your shipping contracts?" Bianca breathed.
"I don't think anything, Bianca," Mason said, stepping close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his broad chest. "I deal in facts. And since your family successfully blocked every legal subpoena I filed over the last decade, I decided to do the only thing left to do."
May you like
"What’s that?"
"I married the smartest, most ruthless strategist in the Romano family," Mason whispered, his dark eyes locking onto hers with terrifying intensity. "And I brought you inside the fortress."
