Chapter 5 - Unholy Alliance
By 3:00 AM, the storm outside had crested, leaving a thick, eerie fog over the ocean estate.
In the nursery, Emily sat in a plush rocking chair, holding Noah gently against her chest. The baby was fast asleep, his tiny hand curled tightly around her index finger, his dark eyelashes resting against his healthy, pink cheeks.
The heavy oak door creaked open. Michael walked in carrying two mugs of hot coffee. He had shed his suit jacket, wearing only his white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
He handed a mug to Emily, taking a seat on the velvet bench across from her.
"How is he?" Michael asked softly, his gaze locked onto his sleeping son.
"His vitals are stable," Emily replied, taking a small sip. "The toxin has cleared his lymphatic system. He’ll be completely fine, Michael."
It was the first time she had called him by his first name instead of "Mr. Carter."
Michael noticed, but he didn't correct her. Instead, he looked at her face—the subtle curve of her jaw, the fierce intelligence in her dark eyes, the soft, protective way she held his child.
"You saved his life twice tonight," Michael said quietly. "First from the poison, then from those incompetent paramedics."
"I did what any doctor would do."
"No," Michael countered, his voice deep and sincere. "Any doctor would have followed protocol and let him die on that carpet. You risked everything. You exposed your identity, knowing I could have handed you over to the authorities or worse."
Emily looked down at Noah. "When a child is dying, nothing else matters. Not my safety, not my past."
Michael reached out. His large, calloused hand rested gently over hers on the arm of the rocking chair. The warmth of his skin sent a sudden, electric shiver through Emily’s spine.
"From this moment on, you are no longer a maid in this house, Emily," Michael said, his dark eyes locked onto hers with absolute intensity. "You are Noah’s personal physician and protector. You will move into the suite adjacent to the nursery. You will have unlimited access to my legal team, my security detail, and my financial resources."
Emily hesitated. "Victor Sterling won't stop, Michael. If he realizes I’m alive and inside your house—"
"Let him come," Michael interrupted, his voice dropping into a dark, terrifying register. "Victor Sterling thinks he’s the most dangerous man in New England because he buys politicians. He’s about to find out what happens when he touches the two things I care about."
Emily’s heart skipped a beat. The two things.
Before she could process his words, Frank stepped into the nursery, his face pale as paper.
"Boss," Frank whispered urgently. "We have a problem."
May you like
Michael stood up instantly, his protective instincts flaring. "What is it?"
"A convoy of four dark SUVs just breached the outer security gate," Frank said, racking the slide of his automatic pistol. "They aren't cops, boss. They’re Sterling’s private tactical team."
