Chapter 2 - The Fortress of Glass
An hour later, a convoy of three black armored SUVs wound its way through the iron gates of the Moretti estate in Lake Forest, an affluent suburb north of Chicago.
The mansion looked less like a home and more like a high-security fortress. Soaring stone walls, bulletproof glass windows, security cameras tracking every move, and armed guards patrolling the perimeter with attack dogs.
Yet inside, the mansion was cold, dark, and hollow.
Dominic’s wife, Isabella, had died eighteen months ago in a mysterious car crash—a tragedy that had triggered a brutal underground war across Chicago. Since then, the house had become a tomb.
I carried Ava up the grand double staircase to her bedroom. The room was huge, filled with expensive toys, custom-built dollhouses, and designer clothes, yet almost everything was untouched or damaged. Drawing paper was torn to shreds, plush animals were thrown into corners, and a massive mahogany vanity mirror had a heavy crack running through its center.
I sat on the edge of her plush bed, carefully unwrapping the cloth napkin from her hand.
"This is going to sting a little," I said, fetching a first-aid kit provided by the estate housekeeper, a stern woman named Mrs. Russo who looked at me with deep skepticism.
Ava sat quietly, watching me apply antiseptic ointment and a soft white bandage to her palm.
"Why aren't you afraid of my daddy?" Ava asked suddenly, her voice tiny in the vast room. "Everyone is afraid of him."
I smiled softly, smoothing back her dark, tangled curls. "Because I saw how he looked at you when you were hurt. A man who loves his daughter that much can't be all bad."
Ava looked down at her bandaged hand. "Marcus told me that if I told Daddy about the secret phone calls, he would make me sleep in the lake like Mommy."
My blood ran cold. The sheer psychological cruelty inflicted on an eight-year-old child was sickening. Marcus had deliberately tormented Ava, making her appear unstable and violent so that no one would believe her if she tried to reveal his betrayal.
"Marcus is never coming back," I promised her, looking directly into her eyes. "Your father is taking care of it. And while he does, I am staying right here. Nobody gets to hurt you while I'm around. Deal?"
Ava stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to decide if my words were real. Slowly, she extended her little pinky finger.
"Deal," she whispered.
I wrapped my pinky around hers, sealing the contract.
Later that night, after Ava finally drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep—holding my hand until her breathing turned slow and steady—I stepped quietly out into the dimly lit hallway.
Standing at the end of the corridor, leaning against the balcony railing with a glass of scotch in his hand, was Dominic. He had shed his suit jacket and tie, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing dark tattoos creeping up his neck.
"She's sleeping," I said softly, stepping closer.
Dominic didn't turn around immediately. He stared down at the dark, rain-swept grounds outside.
"In eighteen months, I haven't heard her sleep without screaming from nightmares," Dominic said, his voice rough with fatigue. "How did you do it?"
"I listened to her," I said, leaning against the railing beside him. "Children don't act out for no reason, Mr. Moretti. Behavior is communication. She was screaming because it was the only way she could defend herself."
Dominic took a slow sip of his drink. "Marcus was my brother's son. I raised him like my own flesh and blood after my brother died in prison. I trusted him with my life... and with my daughter's."
"Where is he now?" I asked cautiously.
Dominic’s gray eyes flickered with a terrifying, ancient coldness. "In a basement under the docks. He's talking. He told us who paid him."
"Who?"
"The Romanov syndicate," Dominic replied flatly. "The Russian cartel operating out of the West Side. They want control of the port logistics. They knew they couldn't break me from the outside, so they paid Marcus to break my family from the inside."
He turned his full attention toward me. The shear weight of his presence made my breath catch.
"You saved my daughter tonight, Emily," Dominic said, stepping closer. "If you hadn't intervened, Marcus’s men were staged to stage a kidnapping outside the restaurant. I would have walked into a trap."
"I just did what felt right," I murmured.
Dominic reached out, his heavy, warm fingers brushing gently against my jaw—a gesture so surprisingly soft it sent a shiver down my spine.
"The fifty thousand is already transferred to your bank account," Dominic said. "Consider it a deposit. But if you stay... if you help me rebuild my daughter's life... I will give you anything you want. Protection, wealth, a future."
I looked into his eyes, seeing the immense pain of a father who had fought the world alone.
May you like
"I'm not doing this for money, Mr. Moretti," I said quietly. "I'm doing it for Ava."
A ghost of a smile touched Dominic’s lips. "Call me Dominic."
