Chapter 6 - The Private SuiteThe security detail moving behind Gabriel didn't look like ordinary event guards. They moved with a silent, lethal coordination that cleared a path through the crowded ballroom without attracting a single public glance. Within three minutes, Gabriel had directed us away from the main hall, up a private service elevator, and into an opulent, soundproof executive suite on the penthouse floor of the hotel.
Serena walked three steps behind us, flanked by two of Gabriel’s senior men. Her usual pristine composure was entirely gone, replaced by a pale, panicked stillness.
Inside the suite, the doors clicked shut with a heavy, magnetic thud. The sudden silence was suffocating.
"Marco," Gabriel said quietly, his back turned to us as he removed his tuxedo jacket and threw it over a armchair. "Take Serena into the adjacent room and hold her there. No phone calls. No messages to her father."
"Gabriel, please—" Serena’s voice shrieked with desperation as one of the guards grabbed her arm. "You can't do this! You don't understand what happened five years ago!"
"Take her," Gabriel repeated. His voice wasn't loud, but the absolute coldness in it made the air in the room drop several degrees.
Once the side doors closed and Serena’s frantic protests were cut off, Gabriel turned back to face us.
He looked entirely different in the warm light of the suite. Stripped of his formal jacket, his white shirt slightly unbuttoned at the collar, he looked raw, exposed, and undeniably shaken. His eyes immediately went to the three boys, who were huddled together on a leather sofa near the marble fireplace.
Julian was staring at Gabriel’s shoulder holster, which was partially visible under his arm. Henry was watching Gabriel’s face with intense scrutiny. Ben had his head buried against my shoulder.
"Claire," Gabriel said softly, stepping closer, though he kept a respectful distance from the children. "Please. Talk to me."
"Talk to you?" I let out a bitter, breathless laugh, my arms wrapping tightly around Ben. "Five years ago, Gabriel, you ended our marriage over a cup of coffee. You didn't ask questions. You didn't look at me. You handed me papers, offered me a settlement, and sent me on my way. What is there left to talk about?"
"I ended our marriage because I thought I was protecting you!" Gabriel snapped, a rare flare of emotion cracking through his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to regain control as he glanced at the boys, softening his tone immediately. "I thought... I was convinced that you were in danger if you stayed with me."
I stared at him, my heart slamming against my ribs. "What are you talking about?"
"Five years ago, two weeks before I gave you those papers, my father's old rivals laid a trap," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a rough whisper. "They made it clear that my wife was the primary target. Serena’s father came to me with a deal: political immunity and federal protection for my operations in exchange for a public alliance with his daughter. I signed the divorce papers because I believed that removing my name from you was the only way to keep a scope off your back."
I felt the room tilt beneath my feet. "You... you divorced me to protect me?"
"Yes," Gabriel said, his gray-green eyes burning into mine. "And I thought you walked away to start a safe, quiet life. I had no idea... God, Claire, I had no idea you were carrying my children."
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He turned his gaze to the sofa, looking at the three identical faces staring back at him. Slowly, carefully, Gabriel sank down onto his knees on the Persian rug in front of the boys.
"And now," Gabriel whispered, his hands hovering inches above the carpet, "I need to know why Serena knew about them when I didn't."
