Chapter 1: The Sanctuary
Chapter 1: The Sanctuary
The heavy oak doors of the ballroom slammed shut, cutting off the whispers of Providence’s elite.
Daniel’s arm remained firmly around Hannah’s waist, bearing most of her weight as he guided her down the private corridor toward the mansion's East Wing. The pain in her abdomen was a dull, rhythmic throb. Every instinct screamed at her to pull away from this man—the ruthless mafia boss she suspected of destroying her family—but her legs refused to cooperate.
"Marcus," Daniel barked, not looking back.
His head of security materialized from the shadows. "Boss."
"Lock the estate down. No one leaves the ballroom. Have Dr. Aris meet us in the master suite immediately. And Marcus?"
"Yes, sir?"
"If Claire or anyone from the Whitlock family tries to approach this wing, break their legs."
Marcus nodded grimly. "Consider it done."
Hannah’s breathing grew ragged as Daniel kicked open the door to his private quarters—a sprawling suite of dark mahogany, leather, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the storm-swept bay. He bypassed the velvet armchairs and gently laid her down on the massive king-sized bed.
"My... my uniform," Hannah gasped, clutching the soiled apron. "The bed..."
"Damn the bed," Daniel said, his voice stripped of its usual icy detachment. He pulled a thick cashmere blanket over her legs. "Breathe, Hannah. Just breathe. The doctor is two minutes away."
She looked up at him, her vision blurring with unshed tears. The jacket he had draped over her shoulders still carried his scent—cedar and rain. "Why are you doing this?" she whispered. "I'm just the housekeeper."
Daniel’s jaw tightened. He reached out, his knuckles brushing lightly against the jagged, uneven edge of her hair where Claire’s scissors had struck. A terrifying darkness swirled in his eyes, a violent storm held back by a fraying thread of control.
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"You were never just the housekeeper," he said softly.
Before Hannah could process his words, Dr. Aris rushed into the room. Daniel stepped back into the shadows, his eyes never leaving Hannah’s pale face. The engagement party downstairs was still waiting for him, but Daniel Carver had no intention of returning. The war had just begun.
