Chapter 4 - The Empty Mansion
The ride back to the Mercer Heights estate was conducted in total, suffocating silence.
The rear cabin of the Maybach was large enough to hold a small conference table, but tonight it felt like a tomb. Leonard slept soundly across the plush leather seat, his head resting in Adam’s lap. Adam’s hand rested awkwardly, tentatively, on his son’s sandy-brown hair, stroking the curls with a gentle, unfamiliar touch.
When the car glided through the wrought-iron security gates of the estate, the sprawling limestone mansion loomed under the moonlight like a monument to cold perfection.
There were no family photos on the walls when they walked inside. There were no finger-painting projects on the refrigerator, no scuff marks on the imported Italian tiles, and no clutter on the marble countertops. Everything was pristine, curated, and utterly dead.
The head housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, hurried down the grand staircase, her face a mask of anxious efficiency.
“Mr. Bronski, I prepared a light sedative for Master Leonard, and his room is—”.
“Cancel the sedative, Mrs. Gable,” Adam interrupted, his voice cutting through the foyer like a cold wind. “And take the rest of the night off. Pack your bags for the weekend; you’re dismissed until Monday.”
Mrs. Gable blinked in utter bewilderment. “Sir? But who will prepare breakfast? Who will oversee—”.
“I will,” Adam said flatly. “Goodnight, Mrs. Gable.”
The housekeeper stared at him for a second, sensing the tectonic shift in the household dynamic, and wisely turned on her heel without another word.
Adam carefully lifted Leonard into his arms. The boy stirred slightly, murmuring something unintelligible against his father’s chest, his small arms wrapping instinctively around Adam’s neck.
A lump rose in Adam’s throat. He carried his son up the sweeping staircase, past the empty guest suites and the silent art gallery, down to Leonard’s bedroom. The room was immaculate—too immaculate. Every toy was boxed, every book aligned by height on the shelf. It looked like a showroom display, not a child’s sanctuary.
Adam laid Leonard down on the bed, slipping off the miniature blazer and the stiff dress shoes. He pulled the duvet up over the boy’s shoulders, sitting beside him on the edge of the mattress.
For over an hour, Adam sat in the dark, listening to the steady rhythm of Leonard’s breathing.
His phone buzzed repeatedly on the bedside table. Screen light flashed with urgent emails from his chief operating officer regarding the upcoming Asian market merger, texts from board members demanding damage control statements regarding the restaurant incident, and notifications from news outlets running speculative pieces about the Bronski family drama.
May you like
With a cold, deliberate motion, Adam picked up the phone, turned it completely off, and dropped it into the drawer of the nightstand.
For the first time in forty years, the world could wait.
