Chapter 6 - The Safehouse
They barely made it out of the ambush alive. With the main estate compromised, Julian’s driver took them to a heavily guarded safehouse in the Catskills—a fortress of glass and steel hidden in the mountains. Marcus had managed to extract the boys, and they were waiting inside.
When Clara ran through the door, the triplets rushed her, crying. She fell to her knees, pulling all three into a desperate embrace, kissing their heads and soothing them.
Julian stood in the doorway, bleeding from a cut on his forehead, watching her. She wasn't Carlo Bianchi’s daughter. Not in her heart. She was the mother his children had been begging for.
Later that night, after the boys were asleep, Clara found Julian in the kitchen, stitching up a deep gash on his own arm.
“Let me,” she whispered, taking the needle from his hand. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the violence of the night.
“You lied to me about who you are,” Julian said softly, his dark eyes never leaving her face.
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“I didn't lie to betray you,” Clara replied, tying off the suture. “My father was a monster. I changed my name to escape him. I didn’t know you were... you when the agency sent me. But once I met the boys... I couldn't leave.”
Julian reached up, his rough hand tracing the curve of her cheek. “And me? Could you leave me?”
