Chapter 3 - Safe Haven
The sleek black Maybach glided silently through the rainy streets of Boston, its tinted windows isolating its passengers from the chaotic city outside.
Inside, Abigail sat nestled in soft, heated leather, clutching a cup of warm chamomile tea provided by Isabella, who sat across from her. Matteo sat beside Abigail, his tablet open, rapidly reviewing financial documents while issuing silent commands to his security team via encrypted messages.
“Is the seat comfortable?” Isabella asked, leaning forward with a soft, affectionate smile. “We can adjust the lumbar support if your back hurts.”
“It’s... it’s amazing, thank you,” Abigail said, looking down at her worn, nineteen-dollar flat shoes. She felt completely out of place in this world of unfathomable luxury. “Mr. Romano, you really don't have to do all this. I’m just glad your sister is healthy.”
Matteo closed his tablet and turned his full attention to her. In the soft amber ambient light of the limousine, his sharp jawline and dark grey eyes possessed an intimidating, hypnotic intensity.
“Call me Matteo,” he said quietly. “And no, Abigail. What you did eight years ago saved more than just Isabella. My mother had just passed away. Isabella was all I had left. If she had died that night, the Romano family would have collapsed into war. You saved my family’s entire future.”
Abigail looked down at her rounded belly, resting her hand over her child. A small kick vibrated beneath her palm.
Matteo’s eyes shifted down to her hand. A subtle soften entered his gaze. “How far along are you?”
“Seven months,” Abigail said, a faint, sad smile gracing her lips. “It’s a girl.”
“And the father?” Isabella asked gently, before quickly waving her hands in apology. “I’m sorry, I shouldn't pry!”
Abigail let out a long, quiet breath, looking out at the rain-slicked pavement. “He... he left the moment the test turned positive. Marcus was a floor manager at a restaurant I used to work at. When he found out I was keeping the baby, he cleaned out our joint savings account and moved to Chicago. I’ve been working sixteen-hour double shifts ever since just to afford prenatal vitamins and a tiny studio apartment off East Baseline.”
A dark, dangerous shadow crossed Matteo’s eyes. He didn't make a scene, but his knuckles whitened against his armrest.
“Marcus,” Matteo repeated the name casually, as if storing it in a mental ledger. “Do you have his full legal name?”
“It doesn't matter anymore,” Abigail sighed, leaning her head back against the plush headrest. “I just want a safe life for my daughter.”
“You will have it,” Matteo said firmly.
Ten minutes later, the Maybach pulled into the private underground garage of the Romano Estate—a sprawling, secure fortress overlooking the harbor.
A team of top medical specialists was already waiting in the private medical wing of the estate. Dr. Sarah Chen, a leading obstetrician, conducted a thorough examination, including a high-definition ultrasound.
As the rhythmic sound of the baby’s heartbeat echoed through the quiet room—thump-thump, thump-thump—Isabella let out a soft gasp, tears brimming in her eyes.
Matteo stood by the wall, his arms folded across his chest. His gaze was fixed on the black-and-white screen showing the tiny, perfectly formed fingers of the baby girl.
“She is healthy,” Dr. Chen announced, turning to Abigail with a warm smile. “Though you are severely dehydrated and suffering from physical exhaustion. You need bed rest, high-nutrient meals, and zero stress for the remaining eight weeks of your pregnancy.”
“She will have whatever she needs,” Matteo spoke up, stepping forward. He looked at Abigail, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You are staying here, Abigail. At the estate.”
Abigail blinked in surprise. “Here? But Mr. Romano—Matteo—I can’t intrude on your home!”
May you like
“It is not an intrusion,” Isabella insisted, taking Abigail’s hand. “It’s an honor. Please, let us take care of you.”
Abigail looked between the brother and sister. For the first time in eight years, she felt the crushing weight of panic, poverty, and isolation lift from her chest.
