Chapter 3 - The Fortress of Newport
By nine o'clock that evening, a violent autumn gale had locked over Narragansett Bay. Rain lashed against the high stained-glass windows of Calloway Manor, while the ocean below slammed against the cliffs with terrifying force.
The third floor of the estate—Damian’s private residential wing—was locked down completely. Four heavy security guards stood watch at the stairwells, while Silas monitored the estate's twenty-four security cameras from the central control room.
Inside the master bedroom suite, a warm fire crackled in the stone fireplace.
Lily lay fast asleep on the massive king-sized bed, wrapped in a plush cream blanket, her dark curls spread across the silk pillows. She held a fresh drawing she had made earlier—a picture of a big house, a little girl, and a tall man with black hair holding a massive umbrella over a potato.
Maya sat on the edge of the hearth, a cup of chamomile tea warming her hands. She wore a pair of soft gray sweatpants and an oversized cashmere sweater that Evelyn had borrowed from the guest wardrobe. Her lip was slightly swollen, and a light yellow bruise had begun to form along her cheekbone, but her eyes were clear and alert.
The door opened softly, and Damian walked in. He had changed out of his suit into a black wool sweater and dark trousers.
"How is she?" Damian asked quietly, nodding toward the bed.
"She collapsed the second her head hit the pillow," Maya said softly, looking over at her daughter. "She thinks this is a game. She thinks we're playing hide-and-seek in a castle."
Damian walked over to the hearth and stood near the fire, holding his hands toward the warmth. "She’s safe here, Maya. The walls of this house are three feet of solid granite. Nobody gets in."
Maya looked up at him, studying the hard lines of his profile in the firelight. "I heard what happened downstairs. Evelyn told me you threw Julian off the property."
"He was stripped of his authority," Damian said flatly. "He’s no longer part of this family."
"Damian..." Maya set her teacup down on the stone mantel and stood up. She took a step toward him, her voice filled with deep concern. "Julian said something to me down at the boathouse before you arrived. He said if I died, nobody would care, because people like me don't matter to people like you. But you... you walked away from a million-dollar contract to come down to that dock."
Damian turned to face her. His dark eyes met hers in the warm glow of the fire.
"You matter to me, Maya," Damian said quietly.
The raw simplicity of the words made Maya’s breath hitch in her throat.
"I spent ten years running an organization full of men who only care about power, leverage, and money," Damian continued, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. "I forgot what real life looked like until seven months ago, when a woman walked into my kitchen with a three-year-old girl who told me I looked like a potato."
A small, tearful laugh escaped Maya’s lips. She looked down at her hands, then back up into his eyes. "Daniel... my husband... he was a good man, Damian. He worked eighteen-hour days fixing electrical lines so we could buy a small starter home. When he got sick, the doctor gave him a prescription for his heart. We didn't know the pills were fake. We didn't know someone was diluting the real medicine with industrial chalk to double their profits."
Tears glistened in her eyes, reflecting the flames.
"For two years, I thought it was just bad luck," she sobbed softly. "A horrible, tragic accident. To find out tonight that it was done on purpose... by men who live in mansions like this... it feels like he was killed all over again."
Damian didn't offer empty words of comfort. Instead, he reached out and gently cupped the side of her face with his large hand, his thumb softly brushing away a tear from her bruised cheekbone.
"I can't bring Daniel back, Maya," Damian whispered, his gaze intense and unyielding. "But I swear on my life, every man involved in that distribution network—from Boston down to this cove—will pay for what they did to your family. I will tear their operations to the ground."
Maya leaned slightly into his hand, feeling the immense, protective heat radiating from him. For the first time in two years, the terrifying weight of loneliness that had pressed down on her chest began to lift.
Suddenly, the lights in the master suite flickered twice and died, plunging the room into darkness.
Only the red glow of the dying fire illuminated the space.
From downstairs, the dull, muffled sound of an alarm chime sounded once, then went silent as the backup generators failed to kick in.
Damian immediately pulled Maya behind him, his hand reaching for his side holster.
"Silas," Damian said into his lapel communicator.
Only static answered.
May you like
"Damian?" Maya whispered, her heart dropping back into her throat.
"Stay with Lily," Damian commanded, pulling his gun and stepping toward the door. "Julian didn't leave the peninsula. He brought company."
