Chapter 4 - The Fire and the Steel
The next three weeks at the Moretti estate were a blur of sweat, tears, and rising tensions.
Without the cloud of sedatives, Leo’s true personality began to emerge. He was sharp, sarcastic, intensely stubborn, and possessed an analytical mind remarkably like his father’s. But withdrawing from years of muscle relaxants wasn't easy. His legs suffered from painful nocturnal spasms, and the physical therapy was grueling.
Every morning at eight, Maggie transformed the estate’s sunroom into a rehabilitation clinic.
“Again, Leo! Don't let your core collapse!” Maggie barked gently, kneeling beside him on the foam mat as he attempted to maintain a crawling position on his hands and knees.
Leo’s body trembled violently. Sweat poured down his forehead, soaking his dark hair. “I can't! It hurts!”
“It doesn't hurt, it burns!” Maggie corrected, placing her hands firmly on his hips to stabilize his pelvis. “Burn means the muscle is working! Burn means the nerve is waking up! Give me five more seconds! 5... 4... 3...”
“Argh!” Leo collapsed onto the mat, panting heavily, his face buried in his arms.
Maggie immediately sat beside him, pulling a cool towel from her bucket and gently wiping his face. “Good job. You held it two seconds longer than yesterday.”
Leo turned his head, looking at her through tear-filled eyes. “Why do you make me do this? Evelyn used to let me stay in bed and read.”
Maggie’s expression softened. She sat back, leaning against the glass wall of the sunroom. “Because staying in bed is easy, Leo. And easy makes you weak. Your dad didn't build everything he has by staying in bed when things were hard.”
“My dad is a bad man,” Leo whispered suddenly, looking down at his hands. “The kids at my old school before the accident... their parents said my dad hurts people.”
Maggie felt a heavy knot form in her stomach. She had been avoiding thinking about Dominic’s line of work. Over the past three weeks, she had seen the side of Dominic Moretti that the public never saw: the father who stood quietly in the doorway of the sunroom every evening, watching his son’s sessions in silent agony; the man who brought Leo hot chocolate late at night; the man who looked at Maggie with an intense, quiet gratitude that made her skin tingle.
“Your dad loves you more than anything in this world, Leo,” Maggie said carefully. “People say a lot of things. But what I see is a man who would tear down this entire city if it meant giving you a chance to walk again.”
Unbeknownst to them, Dominic was standing just outside the open door of the sunroom, leaning against the doorframe. He had heard every word.
He stepped into the room, his dark eyes locked on Maggie.
“Take a break, Leo,” Dominic said softly. “Maggie, a word in my office.”
Maggie wiped her hands on her pants, nodded to Leo, and followed Dominic down the long mahogany corridor to his private study.
The study was a fortress of leather, brass, and dark oak. Behind his massive desk hung a framed vintage map of Chicago. On the desk sat three encrypted satellite phones and a stack of financial ledger books.
Dominic closed the door behind them. The room was deathly quiet.
He walked over to a crystal decanter, poured two fingers of amber bourbon, but didn't drink it. He turned to face her, resting his hips against the edge of his desk.
“You defended me to my son,” Dominic said, his voice low and intense.
“I told him the truth,” Maggie replied, leaning against the leather sofa. “You’re a lot of things, Mr. Moretti, but you care about him.”
Dominic studied her. She was wearing a simple grey sweatshirt and black leggings, her hair pulled up in a messy bun. She wasn't like the sleek, gold-digging women who usually tried to circle his orbit. She was real. She was strong. She spoke her mind without fear, and when she looked at him, she didn't see the crime boss—she saw the man.
“You don't ask about my business,” Dominic noted.
“It’s none of my business,” Maggie said. “As long as guns aren't being fired near Leo, I don't care what you do with your ships and unions.”
Dominic gave a dry, soft laugh. He walked toward her, his heavy steps slowing as he stopped mere inches away. The warmth radiating from his body sent a wave of heat straight through Maggie’s chest.
“You’re an unusual woman, Maggie Bennett.”
“I’m a fat girl from South Chicago who knows how to fix legs,” Maggie said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rapid pounding of her heart. “Nothing unusual about it.”
Dominic reached out. His large, rough fingers gently took hold of her chin, forcing her to look up into his dark, burning eyes.
“Don't speak about yourself like that,” he commanded softly, his thumb lightly brushing across her lower lip. “You are the strongest, most beautiful thing that has walked into this house in three years.”
Maggie’s breath hitched. “Dominic...”
Before he could answer, the heavy double doors of the study burst open without a knock.
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Evelyn Price stood on the threshold, holding a leather courier pouch. Her eyes flashed with absolute triumph as she saw how close Dominic and Maggie were standing.
“Forgive the intrusion, Dominic,” Evelyn said, her voice dripping with artificial regret. “But the private investigator I hired just delivered the audit on Miss Bennett’s financial records. And I think you need to see this immediately.”
