Chapter 4 - THE PRICE OF BLOOD
The private study on the third floor of the Verona estate was a sanctuary that no employee—not even Regina—had been allowed to enter without explicit permission.
It was lined with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves containing thousands of rare historical volumes, leather armchairs, a large stone fireplace, and portrait paintings of Emilio’s ancestors. The air smelled of old paper, cedar wood, and fine pipe tobacco.
Emilio guided Julieta to a soft leather armchair near the crackling fire.
He disappeared into his private bathroom and returned moments later carrying a silver tray with antiseptic spray, medical tape, sterile gauze, and a bowl of warm water.
He set the tray on a low table, pulled a footstool up in front of her chair, and sat down, taking her injured hand back into his.
He worked with absolute, painstaking gentleness.
He used a wet cloth to clean the blood from her skin, his large fingers moving with the precision of a surgeon. When he sprayed the antiseptic onto her cut, Julieta squeezed her eyes shut and let out a tiny, sharp gasp.
"Shh... I know. I'm sorry," Emilio murmured, instinctively leaning forward to blow softly on her skin to cool the sting.
Julieta opened her eyes, looking down at his dark head bent over her hand. His dark hair was slightly messy, a few strands falling over his forehead. Up close, without his suit jacket and tie, he looked younger, more vulnerable.
"Why did you stay, Julieta?" Emilio asked softly, not looking up as he wrapped the white gauze neatly around her palm.
"What do you mean?"
"This morning," Emilio said, securing the tape. "I was cruel to you. Most women would have packed their bags and walked out the door the second I left for my office. Why did you stay and scrub those floors?"
Julieta stayed quiet for a moment, listening to the crackle of the wood fire in the hearth.
"Because of Catherine," she said softly.
Emilio froze. His hand paused on her bandage. He slowly lifted his head to look at her. "Catherine?"
"When I applied for this job three months ago," Julieta explained quietly, "Agnes showed me around the house. She brought me into the nursery, and I saw a photograph of your late wife sitting on the dresser. I recognized her."
Emilio’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "You knew Catherine?"
"Not personally," Julieta said, a sad, beautiful light flickering in her dark eyes. "Four years ago, when my younger brother was dying of leukemia in the pediatric unit at Cook County Hospital, an anonymous donor paid for his specialized bone marrow treatment. It gave us six more months with him before he passed. The hospital administration wasn't supposed to tell us who paid the bill, but a nurse slipped me a piece of paper with the donor's name."
She looked straight into Emilio’s shocked gray eyes.
"It was Catherine Verona," Julieta whispered. "Your wife saved my brother's life when my family had nothing. When I saw her picture in your nursery, I knew why God had brought me to this house. I promised myself that I would take care of her babies with everything I had, no matter how hard it got, no matter how cold this house felt."
Emilio sat entirely motionless.
The breath left his lungs in a long, shuddering gasp.
Catherine. His late wife, who had spent her short life quietly using his immense wealth to fund private charities, pediatric hospitals, and anonymous relief efforts—a side of his money that he had viewed as a tax write-off, but which had meant the entire world to a grieving sister in a hospital hallway years ago.
The universe had spun a circle so vast, so profound, it defied human comprehension. Catherine had saved Julieta’s brother, and years later, Julieta had returned from the shadows to save Catherine’s motherless children from a predator.
"She would have loved you," Emilio whispered, his voice thick with uncontainable emotion. "Catherine... she would have loved you so much, Julieta."
Julieta’s eyes filled with tears. She reached out her uninjured left hand and softly touched Emilio’s cheek—a daring, intimate gesture that no servant had ever dared to make to the head of the Verona syndicate.
Emilio didn't pull away. He leaned his face into her hand, closing his eyes, letting her warm skin melt the remaining ice around his heart.
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the study burst open.
Marco Vance stood in the doorway, his face pale, holding a secure satellite radio in his hand, his gun drawn.
"Boss," Marco said, his voice urgent. "We have a major situation."
Emilio opened his eyes, instantly shifting back into executive mode, though he didn't move away from Julieta immediately. "What is it?"
"Regina’s father—Justice Arthur Ashford—just called the precinct," Marco reported grimly. "He knows Regina is being held here. He didn't call the police, Emilio. He called Viktor Kowalski."
Emilio’s eyes narrowed into slits of dangerous steel. "Ashford is working with Kowalski?"
"They’ve been in business together for two years," Marco revealed, reading from a tablet message. "Ashford was leaking judicial warrants to Kowalski’s crew in exchange for offshore cartel money. Regina wasn't just trying to frame Julieta, Emilio... she was feeding Kowalski information about your estate's security protocols from the inside. She was preparing to help Kowalski kidnap the twins next week for a fifty-million-dollar ransom."
Julieta gasped, pulling her hand back to her chest in horror.
Emilio slowly stood up from his stool.
The vulnerability that had filled his face seconds ago vanished, replaced by an aura of raw, terrifying, apex-predator power that made the air in the vast library feel thin and electric.
"Where is Kowalski now?" Emilio asked, his voice low, flat, and absolute.
"His scouts were spotted three miles out," Marco said. "He’s bringing four armored SUVs. He thinks you're distracted by the situation with Regina. He thinks he can hit us tonight while the house is in chaos."
Emilio looked down at Julieta.
She was looking up at him, not with fear of him, but with terror for the children.
Emilio stepped closer to her, reaching down to gently touch her chin, lifting her face so her eyes met his.
"Take Noah and Gianna to the panic room beneath my bedroom closet," Emilio commanded her softly. "Agnes knows the code. Lock the titanium doors from the inside. Do not open them for anyone except me or Marco."
"Emilio..." Julieta whispered, her hands gripping his sleeve. "Please... be careful."
May you like
Emilio offered her a slow, dark, beautiful smile—a smile that promised total, absolute annihilation to anyone who dared threaten his home.
"They came to take my children, Julieta," Emilio whispered, bending down to press a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. "They are about to learn why my family has ruled this city for three generations."
