Chapter 4 - The Unraveling of Secrets
Morning sunlight broke through the heavy velvet curtains of the guest suite, casting golden shafts across the hardwood floor. Hannah woke up with a start, disoriented by the utter silence of the estate. No blaring subway horns, no angry neighbors shouting in the hallway—just the distant sound of birds chirping in the wet courtyard trees.
She dressed quickly in the fresh clothes Mrs. Gable had thoughtfully left in her closet—a soft cream sweater and dark denim jeans that fit surprisingly well. When she stepped out into the hallway, the aroma of fresh espresso and roasted rosemary drew her down toward the massive country kitchen.
Dominic was already there, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, expertly flipping pancakes at a massive marble island while an array of fresh fruit and pastries sat on the counter. He looked less like an underworld kingpin and more like a domestic father—except for the secure tablet propped against the coffee maker flashing encrypted data streams.
"Sleep well?" Dominic asked without looking up from the stove.
"I’ve slept better in a holding cell," Hannah snapped, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Where are the girls?"
"Upstairs with Mrs. Gable, getting dressed. They're waiting for you."
Hannah paused, her mug halfway to her lips. "Stop saying things like that. I am not their mother. I am a twenty-six-year-old orphan from Queens who is trapped in a Westchester fortress because your kids hallucinated a word."
Dominic turned off the stove, placed the skillet down, and walked slowly toward her. Up close, in the bright morning light, she could see the striking intensity of his dark eyes—eyes that held layers of exhaustion and unyielding resolve.
"I had my intelligence network run a full background check on you last night, Hannah," Dominic said quietly.
Hannah’s coffee cup rattled against its saucer. "You what?!"
"Everything. Birth records, hospital logs, your father’s medical files, your employment history at the coffee shop and Bellafonte." He crossed his arms over his chest. "You were born at St. Mary’s Hospital in Manhattan twenty-six years ago. Your mother passed away when you were five. You have no siblings."
"Congratulations, you read my public Wikipedia-level life," she sneered.
"I also looked into the adoption records and private medical registries of every elite clinic in the Northeast," Dominic continued, his voice dropping to a serious hum. "Because two years ago, on the exact same stormy night my daughters were born in a private clinic in Boston, another set of records vanished. A fire destroyed the administrative wing of the hospital records archive forty minutes after my wife passed away."
Hannah froze, her breath catching in her throat. "What are you implying?"
Before Dominic could answer, the kitchen door swung open, and Mrs. Gable walked in carrying Lily and Grace, while Emma toddled behind holding onto the housekeeper's skirt. The moment Lily saw Hannah, her face lit up with absolute joy. She wriggled out of Mrs. Gable’s arms, ran across the floor on chubby legs, and slammed right into Hannah's shins, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"Mama!" Lily squealed, looking up with adoring eyes.
Grace and Emma immediately rushed over, echoing the cry in a chorus of bright, happy giggles. "Mama! Mama!"
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Hannah dropped to her knees, overwhelmed as three pairs of tiny arms wrapped around her neck. She looked up at Dominic, her own eyes burning with sudden, hot tears.
"I don't know who I am anymore," Hannah whispered, her voice breaking.
