Chapter 4 - The Fortress of Glass and SteelThe Romano estate sat on a private bluff overlooking Lake Michigan, an imposing monolith of black glass, reinforced concrete, and modern architecture that looked more like a Bond villain’s lair than a home.
Emma sat in the passenger seat of the bulletproof SUV, staring out at the manicured lawns and armed patrols. Her fingers were tightly wrapped around her father's wrench.
"You live here?" she asked, her voice flat.
"I sleep here," Luca replied, cutting the engine. "When I'm not working."
They walked through a biometric security door that recognized Luca’s retinas and fingerprint, stepping into a minimalist grand foyer where a two-story waterfall cascaded down a slab of black obsidian. Waiting by the grand staircase was an elegant, silver-haired woman in a sharp emerald pantsuit—Elena Romano, Luca’s older sister and the financial brain of the syndicate.
Elena took one look at Luca, then at Emma’s faded denim jacket and sneakers, and raised a single, perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
"Don't tell me," Elena sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You brought a stray home again. Last time it was an injured hawk. This time it's a waitress?"
"She fixed my car in a lightning storm, Elena," Luca said casually, walking past her toward the private elevator. "And then she survived a Bratva hit squad without spilling her coffee."
Elena’s eyes snapped to Emma. The older woman stepped forward, her gaze sharp, piercing, and entirely intimidating. Yet, as she looked at Emma’s defiant, tired posture, a faint, rare smile touched Elena's lips.
"So," Elena said softly. "You're the girl who told Luca Romano to move out of her way."
"He was standing in my workspace," Emma replied defensively.
Elena laughed—a clear, musical sound that echoed off the obsidian walls. "I like her. Luca, put her in the east wing. Double the guard detail on the perimeter. Rostova isn't going to stop until he finds out why you were stranded on County Route 19."
"I'm not staying," Emma said loudly, planting her feet. "I have responsibilities! I have a mother at home—"
"Your mother is currently being moved from her apartment to our private medical pavilion on the North Shore," Elena interrupted smoothly, tapping a tablet in her hand. "She has three private nurses, a personal chef, and a security detail that could repel a small militia. She is safer than she has ever been in her life."
Emma stared at Elena, horror and gratitude warring in her chest. "You kidnapped my mother?!"
"We relocated her," Luca corrected smoothly, stepping out of the elevator. "And you're next. Unless you want to walk back out those front gates and introduce yourself to Viktor Rostova's hitmen."
Before Emma could scream, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
It was a text from an unknown number. A single video file.
May you like
Emma’s hands trembled as she pressed play. The video showed their tiny apartment living room—the couch with the torn upholstery, the framed photo of her late father, and standing right in the middle of it was a scarred, terrifying man with cold, dead eyes holding a butcher knife.
A voice message played right after: “Tell Luca Romano that his little waitress has until midnight to return what she stole from his trunk.”
