Chapter 7 - THE NURSE IN THE CASTLE
The dust from the boardroom coup settled quickly, but the reality of Hannah’s new life hit her like a tidal wave. Within forty-eight hours, she went from a small one-bedroom apartment with a leaky faucet to living in the master suite of the Moretti estate, surrounded by high-tech security systems, private chefs, and an army of staff who addressed her exclusively as "Mrs. Moretti."
She hadn't taken a single dime from Roman. She refused the black credit cards Marcus Vance tried to hand her, and she insisted on keeping her night shift hours at Great Lakes Medical Center.
"You're insane, you know that?" her best friend and fellow ER nurse, Sarah, whispered on Wednesday night as they stocked the trauma carts. "You're married to the most powerful man in Chicago. You could buy this entire hospital and turn it into a private spa, and here you are cleaning up vomit at three in the morning."
Hannah smiled, wiping down a stainless-steel counter. "If I quit my job, Sarah, then Victoria wins. She wanted everyone to think I did this for the money or the title. I married Roman because it was the only way to keep Owen safe from those monsters. The contract is legal, but my life is still mine."
Suddenly, the glass automatic doors of the emergency entrance slid open.
Four men in immaculate dark suits stepped into the lobby, creating an immediate, nervous silence among the waiting patients. Behind them came Roman. He was wearing a casual gray cashmere sweater and dark trousers, his stride smoother now as his wounds healed under Hannah's strict care. He carried a silver insulated container and a small bouquet of simple, wild daisies—not white roses.
The staff stared in shock. The great Roman Moretti, a man whose name was whispered in fear across the city, was standing in a public ER lobby at three in the morning like an ordinary husband bringing his wife lunch.
"Mr. Moretti," Hannah said, stepping out from behind the nurse's station, a playful smile touching her lips. "What are you doing here? Visiting hours ended at eight."
"I'm not visiting a patient, Hannah," Roman said, his deep voice carrying a warmth that none of his business associates would ever recognize. "I'm bringing my wife her dinner. The chef said you missed your break."
He set the silver container down, opening it to reveal a flawless, five-course Italian meal. The daisies were placed gently beside it.
"You shouldn't have come here, Roman," Hannah whispered, her face flushing as she noticed the entire security team pretending to look at the ceiling. "It’s dangerous for you to be out in the open like this. The Bellandis are still looking for revenge."
"Let them look," Roman said, reaching out to gently tuck a stray strand of chestnut hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm against her skin. "My security has systematically dismantled their shipping routes over the last forty-eight hours. Antonio is currently flight-risk listing his assets to avoid a federal indictment for corporate fraud. They are finished, Hannah."
He looked at her clean, navy scrubs, his eyes soft. "Owen misses you. He refused to go to sleep until I promised to bring you home after your shift."
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"I'll be home at seven, Roman," Hannah said, her heart doing that strange, fluttering skip it always did whenever he used the word home.
"I'll be waiting in the parking lot," Roman said, leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss against her forehead in front of the entire hospital staff. "Eat your dinner, Mrs. Moretti. That’s a medical order from your husband."
