Chapter 4 - The Estate on Blackwood Point
The black SUV glided smoothly up the winding, pine-lined driveway of Blackwood Point Estate.
Through the rain-streaked windows, the manor looked like something out of a storybook: a sprawling, timber-and-stone estate perched on a high cliff overlooking the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean. Warm, golden light spilled from every window, casting a comforting glow across the dark stone driveway.
When the SUV came to a halt, the front doors of the estate opened immediately.
Four staff members stepped out onto the covered porch, led by an elderly woman with sharp blue eyes and a warm, aristocratic smile.
My breath caught in my throat. "Mrs. Gable?"
Sitting beside me in the middle row of the SUV, Dominic smiled faintly. "I brought her from New York three days ago. She refused to let anyone else manage your kitchen."
Mrs. Gable had been the head housekeeper at the Vale mansion since Dominic was a child. She had been the only person in that cold, cavernous Manhattan house who had treated me with genuine affection when I married Dominic, often sneaking me warm pastries and listening to my anxieties about fitting into high society.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door.
"Mrs. Gable!" I cried, stepping out into the covered portico.
"Oh, my dear girl!" Mrs. Gable wrapped her arms around me in a fierce, tight hug, weeping softly into my hair. "Look at you... my sweet Nora. We searched for you for so long... so long..."
Jack and Noah stepped out behind me, wide-eyed, looking at the massive chandelier visible in the grand entryway.
Mrs. Gable pulled back, wiping her eyes with her apron, and knelt before the twins. "And who are these young gentlemen? Look at those handsome faces!"
"I'm Jack," Jack announced, stepping in front of Noah defensively. "And that's my brother Noah."
Mrs. Gable’s eyes filled with fresh tears as she looked at Jack’s gray eyes. "It’s like looking at a little Mr. Dominic... bless my soul."
Within an hour, the boys were settled into the estate's massive east wing. The nursery suite was incredible—filled with handcrafted wooden beds, plush toys, books, and a roaring, safe fireplace shielded by heavy iron mesh.
After eating bowls of Mrs. Gable’s famous chicken noodle soup, the boys collapsed onto their twin beds, completely exhausted by the night's emotional storm.
I sat on the edge of Jack’s bed, stroking his soft brown hair until his breathing turned deep and rhythmic. Noah was already fast asleep beside him, clutching his new plush bear.
The nursery door opened softly.
Dominic stepped inside. He had changed into a dark sweater and jeans. He looked stripped of his corporate armor, quiet and hesitant as he walked across the plush rug toward the beds.
He stood beside me, looking down at his sleeping sons.
"They are safe, Nora," he whispered, his eyes tracing the outlines of their small faces. "The perimeter is secured. Nobody can hurt them here."
"Including Lily?" I asked quietly, not looking up from Jack's face.
Dominic’s posture went rigid. "Especially Lily."
I stood up slowly, gesturing for him to follow me out into the hallway. I closed the nursery door gently behind us.
The long corridor was silent, save for the faint sound of rain beating against the high arched windows.
"I need to know everything about what she did, Dominic," I said, leaning my back against the hardwood paneling of the wall. "How did she blackmail you? Why is she in a facility?"
Dominic leaned against the opposite wall, crossing his arms over his chest, his face dark in the dim hallway lighting.
"Six months ago, Lily resurfaced in Manhattan," Dominic explained, his tone laced with venom. "She walked into my office at Vale Enterprises during a board meeting. She handed me a copy of that ultrasound photograph and a legal petition for full custody of your non-existent 'estate'."
I gasped. "Custody?!"
"She claimed that you had died four years ago in Pennsylvania," Dominic said, his eyes burning with fury. "She claimed that you had given birth to my child, that the child was living with her, and that I owed her fifty million dollars in back-child-support and estate settlements, or she would release the story to the press and ruin the company’s stock."
"She lied about me being dead?" I felt cold horror creeping through my veins. "She tried to sell my children's existence for money?"
"She didn't know you were alive, Nora," Dominic said softly. "She genuinely believed you had perished or disappeared forever. She manufactured a fake death certificate from a corrupt county clerk in Philadelphia."
He took a step toward me, his ash-gray eyes locking onto mine.
"She underestimated me," Dominic whispered. "I didn't pay her. I spent three million dollars hiring federal investigators to tear her life apart. Within two weeks, we discovered her forged documents, her offshore accounts, and the synthetic drugs she had been purchasing under fake medical licenses. When the federal marshals moved in to arrest her for extortion and wire fraud, she had a complete psychological break."
I covered my face with my hands. My own sister. The little girl I had tucked into bed, the girl whose college tuition I had paid, the girl I had loved like a daughter. She had become a monster of greed and obsession.
Dominic’s warm hands gently took my wrists, pulling my hands away from my face.
I didn't pull away.
"She cannot hurt you anymore, Nora," Dominic promised, his thumbs lightly tracing the pulse points on my wrists. "The court declared her mentally incompetent to stand trial. She is under 24-hour psychiatric hold in a secure facility. She will never come near you or our sons again."
I looked up into his face—into the sharp, aristocratic features of the man I had loved so fiercely, the man I had mourned every single night for four years.
"Why didn't you marry someone else, Dominic?" I whispered, asking the question that had plagued my darkest nights. "You are the most eligible billionaire in New York. You could have had anyone. Why didn't you move on?"
May you like
Dominic looked at me as if I had asked him why the sun rose in the east.
"Because my heart left the mansion on November 14, four years ago, in the passenger seat of a beat-up sedan," he whispered, stepping closer, his breath warm against my lips. "There was never anyone else, Nora. There never could be."
