Chapter 2 - The Fortress on the Lake
The convoy of three armored Suburbans moved through the rainy Chicago streets like black ghosts.
Inside the middle vehicle, the quiet was absolute. Tinted, bulletproof glass separated us from the neon glow of Michigan Avenue. Lily had fallen asleep in the custom car seat Marcus had somehow installed in the rear row within three minutes of our departure.
I sat in the plush leather captain's chair, my fingers tightly gripping the silver handle of my worn leather purse. Beside me, Vincent was rapidly tapping commands into a satellite telephone, his face illuminated by the pale blue light of the screen.
"Clear the east wing," Vincent commanded into the phone. "Bring Dr. Chen to the main estate. I want a full medical team on standby, and I want the perimeter protocol set to level four. No one enters without my personal passphrase."
He ended the call and tossed the phone onto the console.
"Where are you taking us?" I asked, staring out at the passing sky-scrapers.
"My home," Vincent answered. "The North Shore estate. It is the only location in the state with five-layer security and an independent communications grid. You will be safe there."
"Safe?" I let out a bitter, breathy laugh. "Vincent, three hours ago I was worrying about whether I could afford organic milk at the grocery store. Now I'm being escorted by armed guards to a mafia compound!"
"It is a residence, Emily," he corrected gently. "And while I understand your fear, you need to understand the reality of your former life. Your ex-husband... Ryan Vance, correct?"
My head snapped toward him. "How do you know his name?"
"Marcus pulled your public file while we were on the tarmac," Vincent said simply, leaning back against his headrest. "Ryan drained forty-two thousand dollars from your joint account three weeks ago. He changed the locks on your home in Ohio, bought a twenty-thousand-dollar engagement ring for a woman named Jessica, and left you with two thousand dollars in a newly opened checking account."
The cold, precise recitation of my deepest humiliation felt like a slap. "I don't need your pity, Mr. Moretti."
"It isn't pity," Vincent said, his eyes darkening. "It is an evaluation. Ryan Vance is a coward who took advantage of a woman who was too good to fight dirty. But more importantly... Ryan Vance is currently in debt to a sports gambling syndicate in Cleveland for eighty thousand dollars."
I froze. "What?"
"Arthur Vance—my uncle—didn't just happen to find you on that plane, Emily," Vincent revealed, his tone dropping into a deadly register. "Arthur has been searching for a vulnerability in my life for two years. When he saw you sitting next to me on that flight, his intelligence team ran your face through facial recognition. Within fifteen minutes, they found your ex-husband. And five minutes ago, my men intercepted a wire transfer from Arthur’s shell company to Ryan Vance’s account."
The blood rushed to my ears. "Ryan... Ryan sold me out?"
"Ryan gave them your social security number, your phone details, and your flight itinerary for fifty thousand dollars," Vincent stated flatly. "He told them you were desperate, isolated, and had no family to protect you."
I buried my face in my hands. The betrayal was so complete, so absurdly cruel, that I couldn't even cry. Four years of marriage. Four years of building a life, supporting him through business failures, bearing his child... and he had sold my location to a mobster for fifty grand.
A warm, heavy weight settled over my hand.
I looked up. Vincent had covered my trembling hand with his own. His skin was warm, his grip solid and unwavering.
"You are not isolated anymore, Emily," Vincent said, his voice ringing with absolute, terrifying conviction. "Ryan Vance made a fatal mistake. He thought he was selling you to my enemies. He didn't realize he was giving me a reason to destroy him."
Before I could process his words, the Suburban slowed down, turning off the main road onto a private, winding driveway flanked by massive stone walls and ancient oak trees.
May you like
The heavy iron gates opened smoothly, revealing a massive stone estate overlooking the roaring, black waters of Lake Michigan.
"We are here," Vincent said softly, stepping out of the vehicle and reaching back inside to offer me his hand. "Welcome to your new life, Mrs. Moretti."
