Chapter 5: The Estate Gardens
The afternoon sun cast long, golden shadows across the stone pathways of the Vance estate gardens. It was a sprawling sanctuary of trimmed boxwood hedges, bubbling marble fountains, and ancient weeping willows that whispered in the crisp autumn breeze. For the first time in over a year, the gardens felt peaceful rather than oppressive.
I pushed Leo’s stroller along the winding gravel path, watching as the little boy reached out chubby hands to catch a drifting yellow leaf. He laughed, a bright, untroubled sound that seemed to heal a tiny piece of the jagged glass lodged in my heart ever since I had first stepped foot into this gilded prison. Behind us, walking at a measured, protective distance, was one of Mateo’s senior security operatives, a quiet man named Miller who kept his eyes scanning every perimeter wall and doorway.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel behind me, and I turned to see Mateo approaching. He had removed his suit jacket, wearing only a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing the lean muscle and faint scars of a past life he rarely spoke about. He looked less like the untouchable mafia boss the tabloids loved to demonize and more like a man exhausted by the sheer weight of his own responsibilities.
“He likes the air out here,” Mateo observed, stopping beside the stroller and looking down at Leo. A faint, rare smile touched the corners of his sharp mouth as Leo immediately grabbed for the silver tie-clip Mateo had forgotten to take off. Mateo gently unclasped it, letting the boy hold the cool metal object instead of chewing on his clothes.
“He’s been cooped up inside for too long,” I said softly, adjusting the blanket over Leo’s lap. “We both have. The nursery felt like a tomb before... before everything came out.”
“I’m sorry,” Mateo said, his voice dropping into a register so quiet the wind almost carried it away. He kept his eyes fixed on his son. “I was blind, Elena. I spent my whole life building walls to keep enemies from tearing my empire down from the outside, and I invited the cancer right into my own home. If you hadn't crawled across that floor... if you hadn't spoken up when you had every reason to stay silent out of fear...” He didn't finish the sentence, but the implication hung heavy between us. His hand clenched into a brief, tight fist at his side before relaxing.
“I couldn't watch her hurt him anymore,” I replied, my voice steady despite the sudden flutter in my stomach. “A job is just a job. But Leo... he didn't have anyone else.”
“You risked your life for him,” Mateo said, turning his intense gaze fully onto me. There was a raw, unfiltered vulnerability in his dark eyes that caught me completely off guard. “In my world, loyalty is bought with money or extracted through fear. What you did... it wasn't either of those things. It was something I don't know how to repay.”
“You don’t have to repay me, Mr. Vance. Mateo,” I corrected myself, feeling a sudden warmth rise to my cheeks despite the chilly air. “Just keeping him safe is enough.”
Before Mateo could answer, Miller stepped out from behind a trellis, holding a small, brown-paper-wrapped parcel that had clearly been intercepted at the estate’s outer mail gate.
“Mr. Vance,” Miller said, holding the package out cautiously. “Just came through the courier drop off at the service entrance. It’s addressed to Vivienne, but postmarked from an anonymous local PO box.”
Mateo’s expression hardened instantly, the domestic warmth evaporating from his features, replaced by the lethal focus of the boss who ruled the city’s underground. He took the package, motioning for Miller to step back. With a small pocket knife he always carried, Mateo sliced through the heavy twine, folding back the brown paper.
Inside lay a single, flash-memory drive and a handwritten note scrawled on cheap, lined paper. Mateo unfolded the note, his eyes scanning the lines. As he read, the muscle along his jawline twitched violently.
May you like
“What is it?” I asked, stepping closer, instinctively shielding Leo’s stroller.
“It’s not from Vivienne,” Mateo said, his voice deadly calm, though his eyes burned with a dark fire. “It’s from whoever was helping her inside this house. And it seems Vivienne’s allies aren't planning to go down quietly.”
