Chapter 3 - The Apartment in Pilsen
The building in Pilsen was a red-brick walk-up with peeling paint and an rusty fire escape hanging off the side. Streetlights cast long, amber shadows across the wet pavement, reflecting off puddles filled with trash and fallen leaves.
It was a world away from the penthouse high-rises of the Gold Coast.
I didn't wait for Marcus. I practically took the stairs three at a time, my heavy footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor of the third floor. Apartment 3B was at the very end of the hall. The smell of cheap pine cleaner and old cooking oil hung heavy in the air.
I stopped in front of the scuffed wooden door. A tiny plastic sign taped to the center read: Brooks/Lin.
My hand hovered over the door. For five seconds, the man who had ordered million-dollar takeovers and commanded armed security details was terrified to knock.
I knocked. Three quick, quiet raps.
Silence. Then, the faint sound of footsteps inside, followed by the metallic click of a deadbolt sliding into place.
"Who is it?" Maya’s voice was thin, guarded, laced with exhaustion.
"Maya. It’s Adrian."
A sharp intake of breath came from the other side of the door. "Go away, Adrian. I called the landlord. If you don't leave, I’m calling the police."
"I’m alone, Maya," I said, leaning my forehead against the cool wood of the door frame. "I swear to God, I’m alone. Marcus is down in the car. Please. You have to let me in. We are out of time."
"Out of time for what?" she snapped, though her voice shook. "For you to tell me another lie? For your fiancée to come here and humiliate me?"
"Salvatore knows," I said flatly. "And Harrison Hart knows."
The silence on the other side of the door was absolute. I knew she understood those names. Four years ago, I had made sure she knew how dangerous those men were so she would run far enough to stay safe.
A second later, the locks turned. The door pulled open two inches, held in place by a brass safety chain.
Maya stood in the crack, backlit by the warm, dim light of her tiny living room. She had changed into gray sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Her hair was completely down now, falling in dark waves around her shoulders. She looked pale, vulnerable, but her green eyes burned with a fierce, stubborn fury.
"What do they want?" she whispered.
"They want to protect their investment," I said grimly. "And to them, you and the kids are a thread that could unravel everything. Maya, open the door. Please. Let me protect you."
She stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then, slowly, she unhooked the chain and pulled the door open.
I stepped inside.
The apartment was tiny. The living room doubled as a playroom; plastic storage bins packed with secondhand toys sat against one wall, and a low coffee table was covered in coloring books and crayons. On the small sofa, three identical fleece blankets were neatly folded.
Through the half-open door of the single bedroom, I could hear the soft, steady breathing of three sleeping children.
My heart swelled until it felt like it would burst against my ribs. I wanted to walk into that room. I wanted to kneel beside those cribs and touch their tiny hands. I wanted to memorize every feature of the three little souls I had unknowingly abandoned.
"Don't," Maya said softly, noticing where I was looking. She stepped into my line of sight, blocking the bedroom doorway. "Don't go in there. They just fell asleep. It took me two hours to calm them down after what happened in the park."
I looked at her, truly looked at her.
"They have my eyes, Maya," I murmured, my voice dropping to a painful whisper. "The little girl... she looked right through me."
Maya lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumping as if a heavy weight had finally crushed her defenses. "Her name is Lily," she said softly, a tear finally escaping her lash line and trailing down her cheek. "The serious one with the curls... that's Leo. And the one playing with the cars is Sam."
Lily. Leo. Sam.
The names echoed in my mind like a sacred melody.
"Lily, Leo, and Sam," I repeated, tasting the words on my tongue. "They are beautiful, Maya."
"They are my entire life, Adrian," she sobbed silently, wiping her cheek with the back of her sleeve. "They are all I have. When you left... when you said those terrible things to me... I thought I was going to die. I spent three weeks on my sister's couch in Rockford, unable to eat, unable to sleep. And then I took a test."
She looked up at me, her eyes red-rimmed and swimming with old pain.
"I found out I was having triplets. The doctor told me it was a high-risk pregnancy. I had no money, no insurance, no husband. I had to work twelve-hour shifts at a diner until I was seven months pregnant just to pay for ultrasound visits. And every single night, I prayed that they would look like me, because I was so terrified that if they looked like you, your family would find us and take them away!"
Every word was a knife plunging deep into my chest. I deserved every bit of her rage. I deserved her hatred. I had lived in luxury while the woman I loved worked herself to the bone to keep my children alive.
I took two steps toward her. She didn't move away this time; she was too tired to run.
I reached out, my hands trembling as I gently grasped her arms. "I am so sorry, Maya," I whispered, tears blurring my own vision. "I am so, so sorry. I thought I was saving you from my family. I thought if I made you hate me, you would stay safe in the light where people like me couldn't hurt you. I didn't know about the babies. I swear to God, if I had known, nothing on this earth would have made me walk away."
Maya looked at me, searching my face for the lies she had spent four years expecting. But all she found was raw, bleeding truth.
"It doesn't change where you come from, Adrian," she whispered sadly. "You are still a Vale. You are still trapped in that dark world."
"Then I’ll burn it down," I said with absolute certainty. "I’ll destroy the empire. I’ll walk away from the money, the title, the family name—everything. Just let me be their father. Let me be the man I was supposed to be for you."
Before she could answer, a loud, heavy thud echoed from the hallway outside.
Maya gasped, freezing in my arms.
Through the thin wood of the front door, we heard the sound of heavy boots, followed by the sharp, metallic click of a lockpick inside the deadbolt.
May you like
Marcus's voice suddenly cut through my encrypted earbud, sharp and urgent: "Adrian! We have company! Three armed men coming up the fire escape, two more in the hall! They aren't Salvatore’s men—they're Harrison Hart’s cleanup crew!"
The lock snapped open.
