CHAPTER 3: THE APARTMENT THAT WAS NOT A HOME
The penthouse overlooked Lake Michigan.
Clara stood in the doorway and did not move.
Glass walls.
Soft lighting.
Quiet.
Too quiet.
Rich people always made silence expensive.
“This is unnecessary,” she said quickly. “I just need to go home.”
Matteo stood behind her.
“No.”
Just that.
One word.
Not forceful.
Certain.
Clara turned sharply. “You can’t keep me here.”
“I’m not keeping you.”
A pause.
“I’m preventing you from going back.”
That landed differently.
Like truth instead of control.
Dominic entered behind them.
“There’s movement,” he said.
Matteo’s expression changed instantly.
“Where?”
“South side. Logan Square.”
Clara froze.
Home.
Or what passed for it.
Her throat tightened. “He’s not there. He’s—he’s working nights—”
Matteo looked at her.
“You’re defending him.”
She flinched.
Because she realized she was.
Habit.
Fear trained into loyalty.
Shame disguised as love.
“I just don’t want anything worse to happen,” she whispered.
Matteo stepped closer, voice lowering.
“Nothing worse is happening than what’s already happening to you.”
That silence afterward was heavy.
May you like
Not empty.
Heavy.
