CHAPTER 8
"Welcome back, Mrs. Russo," the elderly woman said softly, bowing her head with genuine respect and warmth as Clare stepped onto the warm marble floor.
"I am not Mrs. Russo anymore, Martha," Clare whispered, her voice cracking as the familiar scent of sandalwood and expensive cedar filled her senses once again.
"You will always be the mistress of this house, Clare," Leo stated firmly from behind her, taking the wool blanket from Martha and wrapping it around Clare’s shivering shoulders.
Clare pulled the blanket tight around herself, turning around to face the man who had dominated her thoughts, her fears, and her life for three long years.
"Why, Leo?" she demanded, tears finally breaking through her exhausted defenses and streaming down her cheeks. "Why couldn't you just let me go? Why couldn't you let me live my quiet, normal life?"
"Because your quiet life was a lie!" Leo roared, his voice booming through the vast foyer and echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "The Moretti family knew where you were for six months, Clare! They were waiting for the right moment to use you as leverage to destroy my entire operation!"
Clare froze, her breath catching in her throat as his words shattered the illusion of safety she had spent three years building in her tiny basement apartment.
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"They... they knew where I was?" she stammered, her mind racing back to the late-night shifts, the quiet bus rides, and the feeling of eyes watching her from dark alleys.
"I have had four private operatives watching your hotel every single day without your knowledge," Leo revealed quietly, stepping closer to her. "The moment the Moretti hit team moved on the Belmont, I took the stairs to save you."
