Chapter 4 - The House of Secrets
By the third week of her residence at the Castello estate, Pamela had established a strange, domestic routine within the fortress. She had been moved from the guest wing into a beautiful, sunlit suite directly across from the nursery. Her old uniform was gone, replaced by comfortable, elegant clothes Roman had ordered for her—soft cashmere sweaters, well-fitting jeans, and leather boots that didn't squeak against the marble floors.
The transformation in the triplets was nothing short of miraculous. Under Pamela’s constant care, their vocabulary expanded daily. They were no longer the furious, terrified infants from the restaurant; they were bright, laughing toddlers who followed Pamela around the estate like three little ducklings.
Roman, however, remained a distant, brooding shadow. He left the house before dawn and returned long after the children had gone to sleep. But Pamela knew he was watching. Every room in the house had cameras, and she could feel his intense gaze on her whenever she sat in the garden with the kids.
One rainy afternoon, while the triplets were taking their nap, Pamela decided to explore the one part of the house she had been explicitly told to avoid—the West Wing. It was the section of the manor where Elena had lived before her death, preserved like a museum.
The hallway was dark, the air smelling of old roses and dust. Pamela walked slowly, her fingers brushing against the cold stone walls until she reached a set of double oak doors. She pushed them open, stepping into a massive master bedroom.
The room was beautiful, filled with white French provincial furniture and silver-framed mirrors. On the vanity sat an array of expensive perfumes, untouched for over a year. But what caught Pamela’s attention was a small, leather-bound journal sitting on the nightstand.
She walked over, her heart racing as she picked it up. She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the elegant, looping handwriting of Elena Castello.
January 14th: Roman brought home the contract from Genesis New Life today. He thinks he’s protecting me, but I can see the fear in his eyes. Lorenzo Marcone promised the surrogate is a healthy girl from a good family, but I hate the secrecy. I hate that we have to hide our family like a crime.
April 22nd: Something is wrong. I asked Lorenzo for the medical updates on the surrogate, but he refused. He told me 'the asset' is being handled. Asset. That’s what he called her. I told Roman I want to meet the woman carrying our children, but he said it’s too dangerous. The Marcones are pushing the southern territory again. I pray my babies survive this world.
Pamela’s breath hitched. Elena hadn't been a monster. She had been a victim of Lorenzo’s manipulation just like her.
"You shouldn't be in here," a cold, sharp voice said from the doorway.
Pamela jumped, dropping the journal. Roman stood there, his coat wet from the rain outside, his face dark with anger. He stepped into the room, his boots leaving damp prints on the white rug.
"I'm sorry," Pamela said, backing up against the vanity. "I didn't mean to pry. I just wanted to know who she was."
Roman picked up the journal, his long fingers running over the leather cover before slipping it into his pocket. "She was a good woman who deserved a better life than the one I gave her. This room is closed, Pamela. If I find you here again—"
"She knew something was wrong, Roman," Pamela interrupted, her voice steady despite her racing pulse. "She wrote about it. She knew Lorenzo Marcone was hiding things. She didn't want this secrecy any more than I did."
Roman stopped, his eyes locking onto hers. The anger in his face slowly gave way to a deep, exhausting fatigue. He walked over to the window, watching the rain pelt against the glass.
"Lorenzo Marcone called me today," Roman said, his voice flat. "He knows you're here. One of Paul’s men at the restaurant talked before Donovan could clean it up. Lorenzo wants a meeting tomorrow at the old grain silos near the river. He said he has a copy of your original surrogacy contract, signed by Dr. Vance, along with the DNA profiles of the kids. He wants fifty million dollars and the rights to the northern docks, or he leaks the story to the papers and the commission."
"The commission?" Pamela asked.
"The heads of the five families in Chicago," Roman explained, turning to look at her. "If they think I stole another woman’s children to secure my line, they will use it as an excuse to launch a coup. My own men will turn on me. The Castello name will be finished."
Pamela felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. "What are you going to do?"
Roman walked over to her, his shadow falling completely over her face. He reached out, his hand surprisingly gentle as he took her chin, forcing her to look up into his gray-blue eyes.
"I'm going to kill him, Pamela," Roman said softly, his voice carrying the absolute, chilling certainty of a man who had already decided his path. "But before I do, I need to know one thing."
"What?"
"If I don't come back tomorrow night... will you take care of my children?"
Pamela’s breath caught in her throat. She looked at his face, noticing for the first time the slight scar near his jawline, the intelligence in his eyes, and the fierce, protective love he had for the triplets—a love that matched her own.
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"They're our children, Roman," Pamela said, her voice strong and unwavering. "And you are going to come back. Because they need their father just as much as they need their mother."
Roman stared at her, his thumb brushing against her lower lip for a brief, electric second before he let go and walked out into the rain.
