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Dena’s hand paused over a ramekin of garlic aioli. Her dark eyes, usually sharp with the cynical exhaustion of ten years in the Chicago restaurant scene, softened into something genuinely worried. / Chapter 7 / 8

Chapter 7 - The Shadows of Castiano Estate

The Castiano estate sat behind towering iron gates on the outskirts of Lake Michigan, a sprawling limestone mansion surrounded by manicured gardens and patrolled by armed guards in stealth utility vehicles. It looked like a fortress out of a gothic novel.

When the car doors opened, a fleet of domestic staff stood lined up on the gravel driveway, waiting to receive us.

"Welcome home, Mr. Castiano. Welcome, ma'am," an older woman with a severe bun and kind eyes said, stepping forward to take our bags.

Dominic carried a still-sleeping Lily inside, leading me through grand double doors into a cavernous foyer lit by a massive crystal chandelier. The interior was all polished mahogany, marble floors, and modern security panels disguised behind oil paintings.

"Mrs. Gable will show you to the master suite," Dominic said, gently setting Lily down on a plush velvet sofa in the private study adjacent to the foyer.

"Master suite?" I stopped dead in my tracks. "Hold on. I'm not sleeping in your room."

"It's a wing, Ellie. It has three bedrooms, a private nursery, and a security vault," Dominic replied smoothly, loosening his tie. "You and Lily will take the interior rooms. I'll take the perimeter room. No one gets to you without going through me first."

Before I could argue, a sharp, urgent knock echoed from the double doors of the foyer.

One of Dominic’s bodyguards—the broken-nosed mountain named Frankie—burst into the room, breathing heavily, clutching a secure encrypted phone in his hand.

"Boss," Frankie said, his eyes darting nervously toward me before locking onto Dominic. "We got a breach at the downtown restaurant. The Outfit just hit the kitchen. They're looking for the girl."

My blood ran cold.

Dominic’s face went completely blank. The temperature in the grand foyer dropped to absolute zero. The casual, desperate father from an hour ago vanished entirely, replaced by the ruthless, apex predator of the Chicago underworld.

"Who leaked it?" Dominic asked, his voice a lethal whisper.

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The rain tapped a frantic rhythm against the glass of Marissa’s cramped, dimly lit kitchen, but the storm outside was nothing compared to the tempest raging inside Adrian Whitmore’s mind. Standing just beyond the rotting wooden doorframe of her apartment, hidden by the heavy shadows of the crumbling stairwell, the millionaire tried to steady his breathing. His expensive wool coat was soaked through, but he didn’t care. His eyes were entirely fixed on the scene unfolding a few feet away.

The rain tapped a frantic rhythm against the glass of Marissa’s cramped,...

My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath the amber glow of the bedside lamp, the source of the warmth against my side wasn't an assassin, an operative from a rival syndicate, or a traitorous lieutenant.

My hand froze inches from the cold steel of the Sig Sauer P226. Beneath...

The silence in the master bedroom stretched so tight I could hear the slow, heavy drip of my own pulse in my ears. Dominic Rossi’s dark eyes locked onto mine, burning with a feverish intensity that should have sent me running back down the hallway and out into the rain

The silence in the master bedroom stretched so tight I could hear the sl...

"Don Salvatore's men," Frankie replied grimly. "They know you visited Table 12 tonight. They put the pieces together."

Dominic turned slowly, his dark, blazing eyes locking onto mine. The illusion of safety shattered instantly. They knew. And they were already hunting.

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