Chapter 3 - The Doctor's Confession
By 2:00 AM, the third-floor master suite was warm and quiet. The children had finally fallen into a deep, peaceful sleep in three adjoining cribs, their small faces serene, their fingers still lightly touching each other through the wooden slats.
I sat on the edge of the large velvet sofa, dressed in a soft silk robe Mrs. Gable had provided, sipping warm tea with shaking hands.
The heavy double oak doors of the suite swung open, and Damian stepped inside. His suit jacket was off, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his forearms, showing dark tattoos spiraling up his arms. His knuckles were slightly bruised, but his face was completely unreadable.
Behind him, two heavy-set guards dragged a man into the room, throwing him onto his knees on the Persian rug.
It was Dr. Harold Vance.
His expensive doctor's suit was torn, his glasses broken, and his face pale with shear terror as he looked up from the floor. When his eyes landed on me sitting in the silk robe, he gasped, backing away until his back hit the guard's boots.
"Elena..." Dr. Vance choked out, his voice thin and raspy. "Please... you have to understand... I had no choice!"
I stood up slowly, the soft tea cup setting down onto the glass table with a sharp click. "You told me my babies were dead, Harold. I held out my arms in that delivery room, and you told me they didn't breathe."
"They offered me five million dollars!" Dr. Vance wept, burying his face in his hands. "Julian Marchetti’s men came to my private office six months before you gave birth! They ran genetic scans on every pregnant woman entering Saint Jude’s! They were looking for a rare, pure bloodline match for a private genetic trial!"
"A genetic trial?" Damian’s voice dropped into a deadly register as he stepped behind the doctor. "Explain."
"Julian Marchetti knew he was dying of an incurable blood disease!" Dr. Vance blurted out frantically, looking up at Damian. "He couldn't produce heirs! But he needed a biological match to secure the Marchetti family trust funds from the Syndicate Board! Elena’s family line... her grandmother was an aristocratic Italian heiress from Calabria! Her bloodline carried the exact lineage markers Julian needed to forge the DNA results!"
I covered my mouth with both hands, my stomach churning with sickening disgust. "You sold my children... to use them as legal pawns?"
"They forged your signature on the surrender papers!" Vance cried, reaching out toward me. "I faked the heart monitors! I gave you a heavy sedative to make you sleep for twenty-four hours while the transport team took the babies! I saved fifty thousand dollars for you, Elena! I put it in a private account—"
BANG.
Damian didn't even pull a gun. He simply kicked Dr. Vance squarely in the jaw, shutting him down instantly. The doctor crumpled onto the rug, unconscious and bleeding from his mouth.
"Get him out of my sight," Damian commanded coldly. "Put him in the basement cellars. The federal prosecutors will receive his full confession by morning."
Marcus and another guard dragged the limp doctor out of the room, shutting the heavy doors behind them.
Damian turned back toward me. The terrifying darkness in his eyes softened as he saw me shaking. He walked over slowly, standing just inches away.
"I am sorry, Elena," Damian said softly. "I carried those children into my house believing I was protecting my brother's legacy. I had no idea I was holding stolen angels."
I looked up into his dark eyes, tears filling my vision. "What happens now, Damian? Are you going to give them back to me?"
Damian looked over toward the cribs where the three toddlers slept peacefully, then back down at me.
"No," Damian said quietly.
My blood ran cold. "What?"
"If I give them back to you right now, Elena," Damian explained calmly, "the Syndicate Board will know they aren't Marchettis. Julian’s enemies will hunt you and those three children to the ends of the earth to eliminate them and claim the family fortune. You cannot protect them alone in a tiny apartment on a waitress wage."
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He took my shaking hands into his large, warm grip.
"You stay here," Damian declared firmly. "You live in this house as their mother. And as long as you are under my roof, I will burn anyone who tries to take them from you."
