Chapter 6 - Dawn in the East Wing
The sun rose over Lake Michigan the following morning, casting a brilliant, golden wash across the snow-dusted lawns of the Greystone estate. The storm had passed, leaving behind a pristine, sparkling world where every branch was encased in a delicate layer of ice that caught the early morning light like diamonds.
Inside the mansion, the air was warm, smelling faintly of brewed coffee, fresh cedarwood, and baking pastries.
In the east wing nursery—a large, sunlit room that hadn't been occupied by a child in over thirty years—Zoe woke up slowly.
She rubbed her eyes, blinking against the bright morning light pouring through the tall bay windows. She sat up in a massive, beautifully carved wooden bed piled high with soft down comforters and colorful stuffed animals that looked like they belonged in a royal palace.
For a second, the toddler looked confused, clutching her patched teddy bear to her chest. She remembered the cold floor, the heavy smell of shoe polish, the terrifying shadow of the tall man with the deep voice, and her mother’s burning forehead.
The door clicked open softly.
Zoe froze, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
Adrien Romano walked into the room. He had changed out of his blood-stained suit into a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves turned back, looking remarkably relaxed. In his hands, he carried a silver tray holding a warm glass of milk, a plate of fresh pancakes dusted with powdered sugar, and a brand-new, perfectly sharpened box of sixty-four Crayola crayons with a blank sketchpad.
He stopped at the foot of the bed, looking down at her with an expression so foreign to his usual stone-cold demeanor that anyone from his criminal empire would have dropped dead of shock on the spot.
“Good morning, Zoe,” Adrien said, his voice softer than it had been the night before.
Zoe peeked out from behind the blanket, her wide brown eyes darting from the tray of pancakes to his face. “Are we… are we still in trouble, sir?”
Adrien set the tray gently on the bedside table. He pulled up a small wooden chair, sitting down so he wasn't towering over her.
“No, Zoe. You are not in trouble at all,” Adrien said, resting his forearms on his knees. “In fact, your mother is resting comfortably in the medical wing. The doctor says her fever has broken, and she is going to be just fine.”
Zoe’s face lit up with a brilliant, gap-toothed smile that seemed to push away ten years of winter in a single second. “Mama is okay?”
“Mama is completely okay,” Adrien confirmed, offering a rare, genuine smile of his own. “And as for you… I had a long conversation with the head of my household staff this morning. We decided that your mother’s duties are officially changing.”
Zoe tilted her head, her dark curls bouncing. “Changing how?”
“She is no longer going to shine shoes,” Adrien said firmly. “Instead, she is going to oversee the estate’s entire botanical gardens. She’ll have her own office, a proper salary, and a permanent home right here on the grounds. And you…” He reached out, tapping the brand-new box of crayons on the tray. “You have an important job, too.”
Zoe looked down at the bright yellow box, her eyes widening in sheer wonder. “What job?”
May you like
“Official Estate Inspector and Master Crayon Artist,” Adrien said gravely, playing along with absolute sincerity. “It’s your responsibility to make sure the grounds are safe, the flowers are drawn properly, and—most importantly—that my shoes are never, ever polished by anyone under four feet tall again.”
Zoe giggled, kicking her legs beneath the heavy covers. She reached out with a clean, un-inked hand, picking up a bright red crayon from the box.
