Chapter 3 - The Safehouse Sanctuary
While Levi's men moved through the shadows of Chicago, Claire and Natalie sat in the high-end guest suite on the fifty-seventh floor of Marconi Tower.
The room was larger than their entire former apartment building on Cermak. It featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan, plush white carpets, and a bathroom lined with Italian marble.
Claire sat on the edge of the massive king-sized bed, wearing a soft wool sweater provided by Levi’s housekeeper, Mrs. Gable. For the first time in three years, Claire’s hands weren't numb from cold. Yet, her heart pounded with terrifying uncertainty.
"Mommy?" Natalie called out from the bathroom.
Claire hurried in. Natalie was standing before a massive porcelain bathtub filled with warm water and lavender bubbles. She had never seen a bathtub that didn't have rust stains around the drain.
"Can I... can I get in?" Natalie asked softly, as if expecting someone to yell at her for touching luxury.
Claire dropped to her knees, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. "Yes, baby. Yes, you can."
As Natalie splashed happily in the warm water, Claire looked at their old clothes piled in the corner—the dirty rags, the cardboard-stuffed shoes. A knock sounded at the suite door.
Claire opened it cautiously.
Standing outside was Mrs. Gable, a kindly woman in her fifties, holding several shopping bags from a high-end children's boutique on Michigan Avenue.
"Mr. Marconi asked me to bring these," Mrs. Gable said with a warm smile. "Winter coats, boots, dresses, and shoes. Real leather ones, with soft soles."
Claire stared at the bags, her eyes brimming with tears. "We can't accept this. We don't have any money to pay Mr. Marconi back."
"Child," Mrs. Gable said gently, stepping inside and placing the bags on the sofa. "That little girl saved Mr. Levi’s life today. There isn't enough money in this entire city to pay back what she did. Eat the food, take the hot showers, and rest. You are under the Iron Wolf’s protection now. Nobody touches you here."
Downstairs in his private study, Levi stood before the glass wall, watching the storm clouds roll over Lake Michigan.
Sal walked in, tossing a leather-bound ledger onto the mahogany desk. "Vance is locked in the holding room downstairs. Maya is extracting everything he knows about the Moretti compound. But Boss... we have a bigger problem."
"Dominic Moretti," Levi said without turning around.
"Yes," Sal said. "Vincent Moretti just landed at O'Hare with twelve heavy enforcers. They came under the pretense of attending the annual Midwest Port Commission gala at the Palmer House on Friday night. But with Vance missing and Whitmore off the grid, Vincent is going to realize the trap failed within twelve hours."
"Let him realize it," Levi said, turning around. His face was cold, calculating, and ruthless. "Vincent thinks he’s coming to Chicago to claim my corpse. Instead, he’s coming to his own execution."
"What about the mother and the girl?" Sal asked. "If Moretti finds out a seven-year-old trash-picker blew their eight-year operation... they’ll hunt her down."
Levi’s expression shifted slightly. The hard lines around his mouth softened just a fraction.
"They stay here," Levi commanded. "Move them to the master wing on my floor. Set up a security team outside their door. I want four guards on them around the clock."
May you like
"Boss..." Sal hesitated. "You’ve never brought a civilian into the master wing. Not even after your father died."
"My father died because I was too blind to see the snakes around him," Levi said quietly. "This child saw what I missed. She stays."
