Chapter 12 - A Cold Winter in the Chicago Safehouse
Two days after the massacre at Lake Forest, the entire city of Chicago felt different.
The morning newspapers blared headlines about a massive federal raid on the Bellini corporate offices in downtown Chicago, exposing decades of international money laundering, bribery, and corruption. The name Moretti was nowhere to be found in the press, but every underground syndicate from New York to Los Angeles knew exactly who had orchestrated the total destruction of the Bellini family.
I woke up not in my tiny, cramped studio apartment, but in the master suite of Luca’s private, heavily fortified penthouse overlooking Lake Michigan.
The room was vast, warm, and decorated in soft tones of cream, gold, and dark walnut. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the snow glistening on the frozen waves of the lake far below.
I sat up on the massive king-sized bed, wearing a soft, oversized cashmere sweater that smelled unmistakably of sandalwood and cedar.
I touched my face gently.
The swelling on my cheek had gone down significantly thanks to the specialized creams and medical attention provided by Luca’s private physicians over the last forty-eight hours. The deep purple bruise had faded into a faint, soft amber hue, barely noticeable in the mirror.
A quiet knock sounded at the double mahogany doors of the bedroom.
"Come in," I said softly.
The door opened, and Luca stepped inside.
He wasn't wearing his tactical gear or his imposing dark suits. He wore dark gray wool trousers and a fitted black turtleneck that accentuated his broad shoulders and athletic frame. He carried a silver tray with a steaming mug of hot tea and a plate of fresh fruit and pastries.
"Good morning, Olivia," he said, his deep baritone sending a pleasant, warm shiver down my spine.
"Good morning," I smiled, pulling the heavy duvet up around my waist. "You really don't have to serve me breakfast, Luca. I'm supposed to be the maid, remember?"
Luca set the tray on the bedside table and pulled up a plush armchair, sitting down beside me. His dark eyes held mine with a warm, steady intensity that made my breath catch.
"You were never just a maid, Olivia," he said softly. "And you will never serve another tray in this house again."
He reached out, his warm, calloused fingers gently brushing against my cheek, tracing the edge of the fading bruise with infinite gentleness.
"How does it feel today?" he asked.
"Much better," I murmured, leaning slightly into his touch without even realizing it. "It doesn't hurt when I smile anymore."
"Good," he said, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "Because I intend to make you smile for the rest of your life."
My heart fluttered wildly against my ribs. "Luca... what about my mother?"
Luca’s expression softened into genuine warmth. "Dr. Vance examined her at our Evanston facility this morning. The specialists we brought in from Johns Hopkins successfully removed the primary obstruction in her airway. She woke up twenty minutes ago, Olivia. She’s breathing on her own."
Tears sprang instantly to my eyes—not of terror or pain, but of pure, overwhelming relief and joy.
"She’s... she’s awake?" I whispered, a tear slipping down my cheek.
"She is," Luca smiled, leaning forward and gently wiping the tear away with his thumb. "And she is asking to see her daughter. Matteo has an armored town car waiting downstairs whenever you are ready."
I threw my arms around his neck, burying my face against the warmth of his shoulder.
Luca stiffened in brief surprise for half a second before his massive arms wrapped securely around my back, pulling me tightly against his chest, holding me as if I were the most precious treasure in the world.
May you like
"Thank you," I sobbed softly against his neck. "Thank you for saving her... for saving me."
"You saved me first, Olivia," Luca whispered into my hair. "You walked through hell to bring me the truth. Now it is my turn to give you heaven."
