Chapter 7 - The Penthouse Fortress
The Bedford estate was not a house; it was a compound.
Surrounded by twelve-foot stone walls topped with razor wire and guarded by men with automatic rifles patrolling with Belgian Malinois, the estate sat nestled inside fifty acres of dense private woods. The main residence was a sprawling stone manor built in the 1920s, combining old-world European luxury with modern military-grade security.
The moment the Maybach pulled under the portico, the doors were opened by a team of staff.
A woman in a crisp white medical coat rushed forward, flanked by two nurses. "Don Lorenzo! We have the clinic set up in the west wing."
Lorenzo stepped out, turning to extend a hand to Elena.
Elena hesitated, looking at his large, ringed hand, then placed her small, work-roughened palm into his. His grip was warm, solid, and surprisingly gentle as he helped her and Mia out of the vehicle.
"Dr. Aris," Lorenzo said to the doctor. "This is Elena. Mia stays with her. Whatever examination you perform, Elena will be present."
Dr. Aris looked surprised for a fraction of a second, then nodded curtly. "Of course. Right this way."
For the next two hours, Mia underwent a thorough medical checkup. They checked her lungs, her blood oxygen, her ears, and ran blood tests. Through it all, whenever Mia grew frightened of the stethoscope or the bright lights, Elena held her hands, singing the soft lullaby her own grandmother had taught her before she passed. Mia stayed calm, her eyes locked on Elena’s face.
"She’s remarkably healthy, Don Lorenzo," Dr. Aris announced, peeling off her latex gloves. "Mild bronchitis from the exposure, but the fever was managed brilliantly. The dye-free drops and the hydration saved her from febrile seizures. Whoever treated her overnight did everything right."
Lorenzo looked at Elena, his expression unreadable, but a profound warmth shone in his eyes. "I know."
He turned to his head housekeeper, an elderly Italian woman named Maria. "Take Elena to the master guest suite on the second floor. Have clothing delivered immediately—everything she could possibly need. Ensure she has whatever food she desires."
"Right away, sir," Maria said warmly.
Elena followed Maria up the grand curved staircase. The guest suite was larger than her entire apartment building in Queens. A king-sized bed with Egyptian cotton sheets, a marble fireplace roaring with birch wood, and an adjoining nursery fully equipped with a crib, changing table, and toys.
"Here you are, dear," Maria said, smiling kindly. "The Don has instructed that you are to be treated like family. If you need anything, pick up the house phone and dial zero."
"Thank you," Elena murmured, feeling completely out of place amidst such breathtaking wealth.
After Maria left, Elena gave Mia a warm bath in the massive porcelain tub, dressing her in a clean, soft velvet sleeper provided by the staff. She rocked the baby until Mia drifted into a deep, peaceful slumber, placing her gently into the crib right beside the master bed.
Exhaustion finally hit Elena like a freight train. She had been awake for over thirty-six hours. She curled up on the king bed, still in her jeans, and fell into a dreamless sleep.
She woke abruptly four hours later to the sound of raised voices echoing from the courtyard below.
Elena slipped out of bed, padded across the thick Persian rug to the French doors, and peered through the curtains.
May you like
In the courtyard, under the glare of industrial floodlights, Lorenzo was standing in the center of a circle of his men. In front of him, forced onto his knees on the freezing gravel, was his cousin, Carlo Rossi.
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