Chapter 5 - Dawn at the Estate
The sun rose over Lake Michigan, painting the sky in streaks of bruised purple, amber, and gold. The Moretti estate—a sprawling limestone mansion nestled behind wrought-iron gates and acres of manicured gardens in the northern suburbs—stood bathed in the quiet light of early morning.
Mara stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the grand library, holding a steaming mug of black coffee. She wore a soft gray cashmere sweater that had been provided by the estate’s housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, who had welcomed Mara into the mansion at three in the morning with a warmth that felt like a mother’s embrace.
Her old apartment in the city was already being packed up by Mercer’s men, her meager belongings transferred to a spacious guest suite on the second floor of the mansion.
“You’re up early,” a deep voice murmured from the doorway.
Mara turned to see Dante walking into the library. He had already showered and changed into a crisp charcoal suit, though he wore no tie, his shirt collar open at the top. He looked tired, the shadows beneath his steel-gray eyes hinting at a night spent handling the fallout of the syndicate betrayal, but there was a new lightness in his bearing.
“I’m not used to sleeping in beds that feel like clouds,” Mara smiled, taking a small sip of her coffee. “And my mind’s been racing since midnight.”
“Understandable,” Dante said, walking over to the mahogany desk and picking up a leather-bound folio. “How are you settling in? Did Mrs. Gable take care of you?”
“She’s wonderful,” Mara replied. “She treated me like royalty, which is a bit jarring when you spent the last two years dodging soup spoons thrown by impatient diners.”
Dante chuckled softly. “You won't have to dodge anything here—except perhaps Ava’s relentless energy once she’s fully recovered.”
As if summoned by the mention of her name, the heavy oak library door pushed open with a soft click, and a small figure in pink unicorn pajamas padded quietly into the room.
Ava Moretti looked pale, but her eyes were bright and clear. She clutched a stuffed rabbit under one arm and rubbed her eyes with the other.
“Daddy?” she whispered sleepily.
Dante was across the room in two long strides, dropping to one knee before his daughter scooped her up into his arms. Ava buried her face in his neck, letting out a contented sigh.
“Good morning, birthday girl,” Dante whispered, kissing the top of her head. “How are you feeling?”
“My tummy feels funny,” Ava admitted, pulling back to look at him. Then her eyes darted past his shoulder and landed on Mara standing by the window.
A bright, sunny smile broke across Ava’s face.
“The nice waitress!” Ava exclaimed, wriggling until Dante set her gently back on her feet. She trotted across the Persian rug straight toward Mara.
Mara crouched down to eye level, feeling a lump form in her throat. “Good morning, Ava. Happy birthday—or I suppose, happy day-after-your-birthday.”
“Are you staying here?” Ava asked, tilting her head curiously. “Mrs. Gable said you live here now.”
“I do,” Mara smiled gently. “I’m going to help your dad make sure everything around the house runs smoothly, and I’ll make sure your lemonade always has the right straws.”
Ava’s face lit up with delight. She threw her small arms around Mara’s neck, hugging her tightly. Mara froze for a second before wrapping her arms around the little girl, feeling an overwhelming wave of warmth wash over her.
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Dante watched them from across the room, leaning against the edge of the mahogany desk with his arms crossed over his chest. A profound, quiet peace settled over his features—something he hadn't felt in the five years since his wife passed away.
“Well,” Dante said, pushing off the desk. “Since breakfast is ready in the conservatory, and someone missed out on her birthday cake last night... I believe we have some celebrating to do.”
