Chapter 6: The Man at the Gate
The call came at 6 in the morning.
Nora heard nothing of it — she was asleep in the room Lorenzo had arranged for her, a proper guest room in the main wing with a real mattress and heavy curtains that kept the light out.
It was the first uninterrupted sleep she'd had in months.
The call went to Marco, the head of estate security, who brought it immediately to Lorenzo.
Lorenzo was already awake.
He was in his father's room, sitting in the chair Nora usually occupied, drinking coffee and reading through the estate's financial records on a tablet.
He had been there since five.
"There's a man at the outer gate," Marco said.
"He says his name is Brody Callahan.
He says he's here for Nora."
Lorenzo set down his coffee.
"He drove through a blizzard," Marco added.
"Roads are still mostly closed.
He must have left the city last night."
"How did he know the address?"
"He won't say.
But he has it written on a piece of paper — the full address, the estate name, the access road." Marco paused.
"Someone gave it to him."
Lorenzo looked at his father.
Giovanni was awake, his dark eyes fixed on his son's face.
"Hold him at the gate," Lorenzo said.
"Don't let him leave.
And find out which member of this staff made a phone call in the last eighteen hours to a city number."
Marco left.
Lorenzo stood.
He looked at Giovanni for a moment.
"I'll handle it," he said.
Giovanni's hand moved on the armrest.
A slow, deliberate tap.
Then he turned his head toward the window — toward the direction of the main wing, where Nora was sleeping.
"I know," Lorenzo said.
"I'll tell her."
He found the leak within forty minutes.
One of the junior maids — a girl named Petra who had been close to Mrs.
Gable — had used a bathroom phone to call a number in Manhattan at eleven the previous night.
The number traced back to a prepaid phone.
The call had lasted four minutes.
Petra was waiting in the service corridor when Lorenzo's head of security found her.
She didn't deny it.
"Mrs.
Gable told me to," she said.
"Before she left.
She said if a man called asking for Nora, I should give him the address.
She said Nora had no right to be here.
That she'd stolen her position."
"Did Mrs.
Gable tell you who the man was?"
Petra shook her head.
But she had heard enough — her face, when Marco described Brody, told him she had understood exactly what kind of man she'd directed to the estate.
Lorenzo went to Nora's room and knocked.
She answered the door already dressed — she had woken early out of habit, the habit of a woman who had learned that sleeping too long meant falling behind.
She took one look at his face.
"What happened?"
"Brody is at the outer gate."
The color left her face.
Her hand went to the doorframe.
"He's contained," Lorenzo said quickly.
"He can't get in.
But I want you to know before I deal with him, because you have the right to decide how this goes."
"How it goes," she repeated.
"I can send him away.
I can have him removed and make clear he is not to return.
Or—" Lorenzo paused.
"You can speak to him.
Through the gate intercom, with my security present.
If there's anything you need to say to him, or anything you need to hear."
Nora was quiet for a long moment.
The baby moved.
She pressed her hand flat against her side.
"He doesn't get to see me," she said.
"Not like this.
Not after everything." She looked up at Lorenzo.
"But I want him to know I'm not alone.
I want him to know that someone knows what he did."
Lorenzo nodded.
"Then come with me."
They walked together through the main corridor toward the security office.
Through the reinforced window, on the monitor, Nora saw the gate camera feed — a man standing in the snow beside a car, hands in his pockets, looking up at the camera with an expression she recognized.
Brody always looked like that when he wanted something.
Casual.
Entitled.
As though the world owed him patience.
Lorenzo handed her the intercom.
She pressed the button.
"Brody," she said.
On the screen, he straightened.
Looked directly at the camera.
"Nora." His voice came through the speaker, slightly distorted by the cold.
"Come on.
Let me in.
We need to talk."
"We don't," she said.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"You're carrying my child.
That gives me—"
"It gives you nothing." Her voice was steady.
She had not known, until this moment, how steady it could be.
"You left in the middle of the night.
You left debts with my name on them.
You left me with nothing."
"Nora, I can explain—"
"I'm not alone here," she said.
"I want you to understand that.
The people in this house know who you are and what you did.
If you come near this gate again, or near me, or near my daughter after she's born — they will know that too."
Brody looked at the camera for a long moment.
Then his eyes moved — past the camera, up toward the house, calculating.
"Who are these people?" he said.
"Who are you staying with?"
Lorenzo leaned forward and pressed the intercom button himself.
"My name is Lorenzo Moretti," he said.
"You owe money to two men who work for my family.
I've been made aware of the full amount and the circumstances." A pause.
"Leave now.
Don't come back.
The next conversation we have will not be through a gate."
The silence on the other end lasted five full seconds.
Then the sound of a car door.
An engine.
Tires on snow.
The gate camera showed the car reversing, turning, disappearing down the access road into the white.
Nora lowered the intercom.
Her hand was shaking — not from fear, she realized.
May you like
From something that felt, strangely, like the end of something that had been pressing on her chest for a very long time.
She didn't know yet that Brody would not simply disappear.
