Chapter 4 - The Moretti Ultimatum
The guest room Damian assigned to Natalie was on the third floor—luxurious, secure, and equipped with a reinforced steel door frame.
At 2:00 AM, unable to sleep, Natalie walked down to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. As she turned down the main gallery hall, she heard muffled, angry voices coming from Damian’s private study.
The door was slightly ajar.
"Moretti is pressing the riverfront shipping lines, Boss," Marco’s heavy voice said from inside. "He knows the federal grand jury is looking into your port permits. He thinks you're distracted by the kid."
"Moretti is a dog barking at a fence," Damian snapped cold. "He thinks because I kept Ava out of the public eye, I am vulnerable. He tried to intimidate Natalie tonight to see if I would panic."
"What do we do about the girl?" Marco asked. "If Moretti realizes how much Ava cares for Miss Carter, he might target her directly."
Natalie held her breath, her back pressed against the cold marble wall outside the study.
"If anyone lays a finger on Natalie Carter," Damian said, his voice dropping into a register so dark and lethal that it made the hairs on her arms stand up, "I will burn the Moretti family out of Chicago until there isn't a brick left standing."
Silence fell over the room.
"She’s good for Ava, Damian," Marco said softly, dropping the formal 'Boss' title. "And she’s good for you. I haven't seen you eat a real meal or smile in three years... not since your wife passed."
"My wife was killed because of this life, Marco," Damian said, a profound, heartbreaking weight in his words. "I will not let this world destroy Natalie. Keep two extra men on her family's apartment in Lincoln Park. Make sure her sister Grace is protected at her college."
Natalie stood frozen in the dark corridor.
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She had entered this house expecting a cold criminal lord. Instead, she was looking at a fiercely protective father carrying the crushed weight of grief—a man who was silently deploying an army to protect her family without ever asking for credit.
She quietly stepped back toward the staircase, her heart hammering against her ribs for a completely different reason.
