“Was the child born before the marriage?”
“Is this connected to the Rourke conflict?”
“Mrs. Cain, were you employed at Rossi’s?”
Mabel stiffened.
Adrien stopped on the courthouse steps.
Every camera turned toward him.
“My wife’s history is not an invitation for your contempt,” he said. “She worked to support a dying mother and a younger brother. She gave more while earning minimum wage than most people give from fortunes.”
His arm moved around her waist.
“She is Mabel Cain. The child is mine. Any insult against either of them will be treated as an insult against me.”
Chicago understood threats delivered by Adrien Cain.
The questions stopped.
Mabel entered his world through iron gates.
Cain House stood above Lake Michigan, a limestone mansion guarded by cameras, armed men, and silence. Staff members lined the entrance when she arrived. Some looked curious. Others looked disapproving.
Margot Cain waited in the main hall.
She was an elegant woman in her early sixties, dressed in black silk, with Adrien’s sharp eyes and none of his hidden softness.
Her gaze settled on the baby.
“My granddaughter.”
Mabel tightened her hold.
Margot looked at her. “I will not take the child from you.”
“I’ve heard powerful people say comforting things before.”
A faint spark appeared in Margot’s eyes. “Good. You are not easily impressed.”
“She should not have to impress you,” Adrien said.
His mother’s expression cooled. “We had an agreement with the Vane family.”
“We had discussions.”
“You were expected to marry Celeste.”
“I married Mabel.”
“You married a vulnerability.”
Adrien stepped in front of his wife.
“I married the only person in this city who showed me loyalty before she knew my name.”
Mabel felt the force of his words.
Margot studied her son, then turned away.
“You have brought war into this house.”
“No,” Mabel said.
Both Cains looked at her.
“The war was already here. I’m simply the person you can blame without admitting your enemies were inside your gates long before I arrived.”
Margot’s brows rose.
Adrien looked almost proud.
Living with him created a new kind of danger.
Not the armed men outside her door or the cars that followed whenever she left the estate. Not the whispered meetings that stopped when she entered.
The danger lived in quiet moments.
Adrien holding Hope at three in the morning, his white shirt open at the collar while he walked the nursery floor.
