Chapter 4 - The Golden Cage in Brooklyn
True to his word, within three hours, my quiet Brooklyn Heights brownstone had been quietly and effectively invaded.
Not by thugs or goons, but by a small army of contractors, security experts, and personal assistants sent by Moretti Capital. By evening, state-of-the-art biometric locks had been installed on all exterior doors, bullet-resistant glass lined the street-level windows, and a discreet, professional security detail was stationed in a rented unit across the hall.
I sat on my living room sofa, staring at the sleek new control panel mounted by the front door, feeling entirely suffocated.
My phone buzzed against the coffee table.
An incoming video call from an unknown, encrypted number.
I swiped to answer it, expecting Adrian.
Instead, the screen flickered to life, revealing a face I hadn't seen in years.
Vanessa Russo.
She was sitting in what looked like a lavishly decorated European hotel room, swirling a glass of red wine, looking stunning and entirely too pleased with herself.
“Hello, Claire,” Vanessa said, her voice dripping with sickly sweet amusement. “I hear congratulations are in order. You’ve certainly been busy since the divorce papers dried, haven't you?”
My stomach tightened. “How did you get this number, Vanessa?”
“Oh, please. Adrian’s security team is practically tripping over themselves trying to manage this sudden little family crisis of his,” Vanessa laughed lightly, though her eyes were ice-cold. “He’s practically tearing Manhattan apart trying to figure out how to force you into a penthouse marriage of convenience. But let’s be entirely honest with each other, darling. You were just a placeholder. A quiet little rebound while he was sorting out his portfolio. Do you honestly think a man like Adrian Moretti is going to settle down to change diapers in Brooklyn with you?”
I felt a surge of hot anger override my fear. I didn't cower. I didn't look away. I looked straight into the camera lens.
“If I’m just a placeholder, Vanessa, then why is the most feared man in New York currently turning my apartment into a fortress just to keep our baby safe?” I asked smoothly, keeping my voice dangerously calm. “And why is he ignoring your phone calls to sit outside my lobby right now?”
Vanessa’s smile vanished instantly, her manicured fingers tightening around her wine glass so hard her knuckles turned white.
Before she could spit out a venomous reply, the front door of my apartment clicked open with the new biometric chime.
Adrian walked in, carrying a brown paper bag from an organic bakery downtown, looking exhausted and out of place in my modest living room.
He glanced at my phone screen, saw Vanessa’s furious face staring back at him, and without a single word of hesitation, he reached down, tapped the screen, and hung up the call.
Then he tossed my phone onto the sofa.
“Never answer her calls again,” Adrian ordered quietly, setting the bakery bag on the coffee table.
“You don’t get to tell me who I can talk to, Adrian,” I fired back, standing up from the sofa. “You don’t get to install guards, take over my life, and pretend we’re a happy little family just because of a heartbeat on a monitor!”
Adrian looked up at me, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that stole the breath right out of my lungs.
“I’m not pretending, Claire,” he said, closing the distance between us until I was trapped against the back of the sofa. “The day I signed those divorce papers was the biggest mistake of my life. I let you walk away because I was a coward afraid of my own feelings. But I am not letting you walk away again. And I am damn sure not letting my child grow up anywhere except right beside me.”
“And what about Vanessa?” I challenged, my voice shaking. “What about the past?”
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Adrian reached out, his warm, steady hand finally resting gently over the curve of my stomach, right where our baby was resting.
“Vanessa is history,” he whispered, his gaze locked onto mine. “You are my present, Claire. And if you’ll let me... I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it.”
