Chapter 4 - The Recovery and the Reveal
Two days after the Senator’s stormy departure from the estate, the west wing felt unusually quiet.
Elena Brooks sat at the wooden table in the spacious staff kitchen, sipping a cup of chamomile tea while Nurse Clara—a veteran medic in the Moretti employ—gently unwrapped the white gauze bandage from her left forearm.
The skin underneath was raw, pink, and tender, but the specialized silver sulfadiazine cream Gabriel had ordered had prevented any serious scarring or infection.
“You’re healing remarkably well, Elena,” Clara noted with a warm smile, patting the girl’s shoulder. “Give it another week of light duties, and you won't even remember the burn.”
“Thank you, Clara,” Elena murmured, looking down at her arm with a sense of lingering disbelief. “I still can’t believe... Mr. Moretti actually checked on me twice yesterday.”
“People think the Boss is made of iron because of the world he operates in,” a calm, deep voice echoed from the doorway.
Elena and Clara turned simultaneously.
Gabriel stood in the doorway, his black suit jacket draped over his arm, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He didn't look like a feared mafia syndicate boss at that moment; he looked like a man checking on his household.
“Mr. Moretti,” Elena stammered, instantly trying to stand up from the chair.
“Stay seated, Elena,” Gabriel commanded gently, walking into the kitchen. He stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes inspecting her arm. “How is the pain?”
“It’s much better, sir. Truly. I... I don't know how to thank you for everything. The medical care, the paid leave... and the way you handled—” She stopped herself, biting her lower lip.
“You don't need to finish that sentence,” Gabriel said quietly. “No one in this house works in an environment where abuse is part of the job description. My father built this estate on old rules, but I am rewriting them.”
He turned his gaze toward Clara. “Is she cleared for light administrative work in the library? I need someone to help sort through the historical estate ledgers while my legal team audits the payroll records.”
“Light work, yes, boss,” Clara nodded. “No heavy lifting or kitchen service for another week.”
“Done,” Gabriel said, looking back down at Elena. “Take a few more days to rest, and report to the main library on Monday morning. Your salary will continue without interruption.”
Before Elena could find her voice to reply, Marco appeared in the doorway behind Gabriel, holding an encrypted tablet.
“Boss,” Marco said, his voice urgent. “We have an incoming transmission from the downtown shipping terminal. The federal customs audit team has arrived early, and they’re asking for your personal sign-off on the manifest numbers.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. The easy atmosphere in the kitchen evaporated instantly, replaced by the razor-sharp focus of a man managing a billion-dollar empire.
“Let’s go,” Gabriel said, turning toward the door. He cast one final, reassuring glance at Elena. “Rest up, Elena. Monday morning.”
May you like
As Gabriel strode down the corridor with Marco trailing close behind, he felt a strange, unfamiliar lightness in his chest. For years, he had believed that shedding weakness meant cutting away all humanity.
Now, walking away from Camille and standing beside Elena, he realized something profound: true strength wasn't about tolerating cruelty. It was about having the power to stop it.
