Chapter 4 - Midnight Whispers in the West WingThe west wing suite was larger than Serena’s entire former apartment in Brooklyn.
High ceilings, cream-colored wainscoting, a plush velvet armchair by the window, and a king-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens. Adjoining it was a cozy secondary bedroom already prepared for Lucia, complete with a small bookshelf and a floral duvet.
Serena sat on the edge of the mattress, her phone clutched tightly in her hand. The screen glowed in the darkened room.
Missed Call: Daniel (10:14 PM)Text Message: "Don't bother fighting the custody date, Serena. You don't have the income to support her. Save yourself the legal fees."
Serena locked her phone and tossed it onto the bedside table, letting out a shaky breath. She closed her eyes, rubbing her temples where a dull, throbbing headache had settled in. She had won round one. But she knew this was only the beginning of a much larger war.
A soft, hesitant knock sounded at her door.
Serena sat up immediately. She checked her watch. 11:42 PM.
She walked across the hardwood floor and pulled the door open a crack.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway was Leo. He was wearing gray pajamas with rocket ships on them, holding a worn, tattered stuffed bear by its missing ear. His dark curls were messy against his forehead, and he looked up at Serena with an expression of quiet vulnerability.
“Can’t sleep?” Serena asked softly, opening the door wider.
“My room is too quiet,” Leo whispered, staring down at his bare toes against the rug. “Usually by this time, the nanny is either crying in the hallway or packing her bags. The silence is weird.”
Serena smiled gently, stepping aside. “You’re welcome to come in, but I warn you, I don't cry easily.”
Leo stepped into the room, his eyes scanning the space before landing on the small adjoining bedroom meant for Lucia. “Is this where your daughter’s going to sleep?”
“Yes. Her name is Lucia. She’s seven, just a year older than you.”
“Will she hate us?” Leo asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone at school says we’re the wild Rinaldi boys. They say our house is cursed because Mama died here.”
Serena’s heart broke a little. She walked over, knelt down so she was eye-level with the boy, and placed her hands gently on his shoulders.
“Lucia doesn't care what people say at school,” Serena said firmly. “And your house isn't cursed, Leo. It’s just… grieving. Your father, your uncles, you and your brothers—you’re all trying to survive in a house that feels too big and too empty without her.”
Leo looked up, his dark eyes searching hers. “Did Dad hire you just to cook?”
“No,” Serena said honestly. “He hired me to take care of you. And I take my job very seriously.”
Before Leo could answer, a loud, metallic clatter echoed from down the hallway, followed by a muffled curse in Vittorio’s deep voice.
Serena and Leo exchanged glances.
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“What was that?” Serena asked, standing up.
“That,” Leo said, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “sounds like Uncle Marcus came back for his briefcase, and my brothers activated the tripwire in the second-floor landing.”
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