Chapter 2 - The Interrogation of Dr. Harris
Within twenty minutes, the tranquil estate was transformed into an armed garrison. Gabriel’s phone had erupted the moment he powered it on, but he ignored the endless stream of notifications and immediately dialed Luca, his ruthless head of security.
Soon, three black SUVs tore up the circular gravel driveway, their tires churning the frost-covered grass. Armed enforcers spilled out into the mansion, boots tracking mud across pristine white carpets. But their guns, intimidation tactics, and muscle were entirely useless against an enemy that had already slipped away.
Gabriel sat on the edge of the stripped mattress in the master bedroom, staring blindly at his trembling hands. The numbness was rapidly giving way to a murderous, blinding rage—directed outward at the staff, the doctors, and most destructively, at himself.
The door creaked open, and Luca stepped inside. The broad-shouldered enforcer had a jagged scar slicing down his jaw and zero tolerance for failure.
“The perimeter guards are waking up now, boss,” Luca reported, his voice low and tense. “They were drugged. Someone spiked the coffee thermos in the guardhouse with a heavy pharmaceutical sedative. They were completely out cold until we threw cold water on them.”
Gabriel looked up, his eyes bloodshot and feral. “And the indoor staff?”
“Dismissed yesterday afternoon,” Luca replied grimly. “Norah gave them the weekend off. Told them you wanted absolute privacy for a quiet evening at home.”
Gabriel stood up slowly, towering over his most trusted man. “She planned this. Every single second of it.”
“Looks like it. It was calculated down to the minute.”
“Where is Dr. Harris?”
“We dragged him out of bed thirty minutes ago. He’s waiting in the kitchen.”
Gabriel didn't say another word. He stalked down the stairs, his boots echoing with lethal intent. In the expansive kitchen, Dr. Harris—a graying physician who had patched up gunshot wounds and delivered babies for the Costa syndicate for over twenty years—was sweating profusely through his silk pajamas, flanked by three towering guards.
Gabriel slammed both hands down onto the granite island, leaning so close his face was inches from the terrified doctor’s nose.
“Tell me,” Gabriel whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying, suppressed fury, “every single thing that happened in my house last night.”
Dr. Harris raised his hands defensively, his voice cracking. “Gabriel, I tried to call you! I tried for three solid hours while I was working!”
“I didn’t ask what you tried to do, Harris! I asked what happened!”
Swallowing hard, the doctor gripped the edge of the counter. “Norah called me at 10:00 p.m. Her water had broken. She was in active labor. I rushed over immediately. When I got here, the perimeter guards were already unresponsive. I used the emergency keypad code Norah had given me months ago to let myself in.”
Harris paused, wiping sweat from his forehead. “She was in the master bathtub. The contractions were coming too fast and furious; it was too late to transport her to the private surgical clinic. We had no choice. We had to deliver them right here.”
Gabriel closed his eyes, a sharp pain stabbing behind his temples. In a bathtub. Alone. While I was with Bianca.
“She was terrifyingly quiet,” Harris whispered, his own eyes wide with lingering shock. “She didn’t scream once, Gabriel. She just bit down on a folded towel until her knuckles bled. By 2:00 a.m., the boy came. Ten minutes later, the girl.”
Gabriel’s breath caught in his throat. “Twins? A boy and a girl?”
“Yes. Small, premature, but otherwise remarkably healthy. They had lungs like sirens.”
“Then what?” Gabriel demanded, his patience snapping completely. “How does a woman who just went through major trauma walk out of this house with two newborns without you stopping her?”
“I couldn’t stop her!” Harris pleaded, his voice rising in panic. “After I delivered the babies, cleaned them up, and checked Norah’s vitals to ensure she wouldn't hemorrhage, I stepped outside to my car to grab my secondary medical bag. I was gone for five minutes—literally five minutes! When I walked back into the master suite, the room was completely abandoned. The babies were gone, and Norah was nowhere to be found.”
Before the doctor could finish, Gabriel grabbed him by the pajama collar, dragging him violently across the granite counter.
“You expect me to believe a post-partum woman walked out of here carrying two infants in five minutes?”
“She had help!” Harris choked out, clawing at Gabriel’s hands. “There were heavy tire tracks waiting at the service entrance in the back! An SUV! Someone was waiting in the shadows to take her away! Gabriel, I swear on my life, I didn't know anything about it!”
With a snarl of disgust, Gabriel shoved the doctor back into his chair, sending it skidding across the floor.
Norah had help. Someone had aided his wife in slipping right out from under his nose. He had always viewed Norah as a soft, gentle creature—an art restorer who belonged entirely separate from his violent underworld. He had mistaken her quiet grace for absolute fragility.
He turned sharply to his head of security.
“Luca.”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Lock down the entire city of Chicago by noon. I want every single airport, train station, bus depot, and private airstrip monitored. Bribe the traffic cops, hack the tollway cameras, and pull every piece of security footage within a ten-mile radius of this estate.”
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“What are our parameters for search?” Luca asked, pulling out a encrypted tablet.
“She has two premature newborns,” Gabriel said coldly, his eyes narrowing into slits. “She can’t travel far without medical supplies, and she can’t fly commercial without birth certificates. She is still within state lines. Find my wife. Find my children. And whoever helped her escape... bring them to me alive. I want to take them apart piece by piece.”
