Chapter 5 - The Sanctuary of Lake Forest
Two weeks later, Lena was officially discharged from Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
She was still weak, her body battered and slow to heal. The skin on her back and side was marked by five jagged, dark red surgical scars—permanent reminders of the night she had walked into the valley of death.
She expected to be taken back to her basement apartment in Pilsen.
Instead, a private medical transport van escorted by four black SUVs drove her straight north, through the grand iron gates of the Duca family estate in Lake Forest.
The estate was breathtaking. A sprawling French Normandy mansion made of pale limestone, surrounded by two hundred acres of ancient oak trees, manicured rose gardens, and a private lake.
When the van pulled up to the front entrance, Marco was waiting on the marble steps.
He didn't let the paramedics touch her. He walked into the back of the van, carefully scooped Lena into his arms, ignoring her quiet gasp of surprise, and carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing at all.
"Mr. Duca, I can walk," Lena protested weakly, her cheeks flushing a faint pink.
"No, you can't," Marco said smoothly, carrying her through the grand double doors into the soaring foyer. "And it's Marco. You will never call me Mr. Duca again."
He carried her up the grand winding staircase to the master wing of the house. He pushed open the double doors to a vast, sunlit suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the gardens, a king-sized bed covered in white silk linens, and a roaring marble fireplace.
In the corner sat Danny, smiling broadly in a brand-new, high-tech motorized wheelchair.
"Lena!" Danny cheered, rolling toward them.
"Danny!" Lena cried, her eyes filling with tears as Marco gently set her down on the plush bed. She wrapped her arms around her brother, holding him tightly.
"Look at this place, Lena!" Danny said excitedly, gesturing to the suite. "Marco got me a personal physical therapist! He said I’m staying here with you until I recover!"
Lena looked up at Marco, who was standing at the foot of the bed with his hands in his pockets, watching them with a quiet, contented expression.
"Marco... this is too much," Lena said, her voice shaking with overwhelming gratitude and anxiety. "I can't accept this. I am your mother's caregiver—"
"You are not a caregiver anymore, Lena," Marco interrupted, stepping closer. His tone was firm, leaving no room for debate. "You are a guest of this family. You will rest. You will heal. My staff will serve you. And if you need anything—anything at all—you tell me."
Isabella stepped into the room, wearing a elegant beige cardigan, her face full of warmth. "Listen to him, Lena. For once in his life, my stubborn son is making sense. This is your home now."
Over the next month, Lake Forest became Lena’s sanctuary.
Every morning, Marco had breakfast with her in her suite before leaving for the city. He returned every evening by six o'clock—a radical change for a man who used to work twenty hours a day. He sat by her bed, reading to her, watching movies with Danny, or simply listening to her talk about her childhood.
The sharp, terrifying mob boss dissolved in the quiet warmth of her room. Around Lena, Marco was gentle, patient, and deeply attentive. He brought her rare books, filled her room with fresh white lilies, and personally changed her bandages when she felt too self-conscious to let the nurses do it.
One cool April evening, Lena was sitting in a wheelchair on the private terrace, watching the sunset over the lake.
Marco walked out, carrying a heavy cashmere blanket. He draped it carefully over her shoulders, stepping around to stand beside her, leaning against the stone railing.
"How are the scars healing?" he asked softly.
Lena touched her side through her sweater. "The doctor said they will fade, but they won't disappear."
Marco looked down at her, his dark eyes filled with a profound, aching reverence.
He dropped to one knee beside her wheelchair, taking her small hand in his. He lifted her hem slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss directly over the fabric where the lowest scar rested.
Lena gasped softly, a shiver running through her entire body.
"They are not ugly, Lena," Marco whispered, looking up into her eyes. "They are the holy marks of a woman who saved my soul. I will spend the rest of my life worshiping every single one of them."
Lena’s heart thundered in her chest. For months, she had tried to suppress the feelings growing inside her. She was a poor girl from the South Side; he was the king of Chicago.
Yet, as she looked into his dark, earnest eyes, she knew there was no going back.
She reached out, her fingers gently tracing the hard line of his jawline, feeling the rough stubble beneath her touch.
"Marco..." she whispered.
May you like
He stood up, pulled her gently out of the wheelchair into his arms, and kissed her.
The kiss was slow, deep, and intoxicating, filled with month’s worth of unspoken longing, gratitude, and fierce, protective love. Lena wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her fingers in his dark hair, giving herself over completely to the man who had fallen apart for her.
