Chapter 4 - The Fortress on Lake Shore Drive
The Moretti estate on Lake Shore Drive was an ancient, four-story limestone fortress built in 1892, surrounded by twelve-foot wrought-iron security walls and ancient, towering oak trees that groaned in the winter gale.
The heavy bronze gates swung open automatically as the Maybach approached, closing behind them with a concussive, mechanical thud that signaled an absolute severance from the outside world.
As Dela stepped out of the vehicle onto the heated granite motor court, the cold lake wind whipped the hem of her coat around her boots.
Julian was beside her instantly, his heavy cashmere overcoat draped securely over her shoulders, his arm resting firmly against the small of her back as he guided her up the wide stone steps toward the massive, arched oak front doors.
The doors were opened from within by an older woman with silver-braided hair, wearing an immaculate black uniform with a high white lace collar.
"Good evening, Don Julian," the woman said, stepping aside with a respectful, graceful bow.
"Good evening, Maria," Julian replied, stepping into the grand marble foyer that smelled of aged beeswax, woodsmoke from a roaring stone hearth, and fresh white lilies.
Julian turned to Dela, his hands gently lifting the heavy overcoat from her shoulders, handing it to a waiting footman.
"Maria," Julian announced, his voice echoing clearly off the vaulted limestone ceiling. "This is Delilah Hawthorne. From tonight on... her word carries the exact authority of my own. Have the master suite in the east wing prepared. Bring hot soup, clean clothes, and call Dr. Hayes to conduct a full prenatal examination."
Maria looked at Dela.
She did not look at Dela’s worn clothes or her taped shoes. She looked at the quiet, unyielding intelligence in Dela’s eyes, and then her gaze dropped to the gentle curve of Dela’s belly.
"Right away, Don Julian," Maria said softly, her eyes warming with deep respect. "Welcome to the house, Mrs. Hawthorne."
Julian led Dela into his private library on the ground floor.
The room was vast, lined with towering mahogany bookshelves rising twenty feet toward a coffered plaster ceiling. In the center sat a massive partners desk, illuminated by the green glow of an antique banker's lamp. A fire roared in the limestone hearth, throwing long, amber shadows across the Persian rugs.
"Sit, Delilah," Julian said, gesturing to a deep leather armchair by the fire.
Dela sank into the chair, the exhaustion of seven months finally catching up to her limbs. She rested her hands over her stomach, looking up at the mafia boss who had just turned Chicago upside down.
"Why did you say that in the alley, Julian?" she asked, her voice quiet. "You told your driver that this was your child."
Julian walked over to the sideboard, pouring a glass of sparkling water, and brought it to her, kneeling beside her chair so his eyes were level with hers.
"Because the moment Arthur Sterling realizes you survived tonight, he will use every corrupt judge in Cook County to file an emergency custody attachment on your unborn child," Julian explained, his voice low and fiercely protective. "He will claim you are an unstable, unemployed widow incapable of providing care, and he will use the child as an anvil to force you to sign a non-disclosure agreement regarding Pier Nine."
Dela’s stomach dropped into ice. "He wouldn't."
"He would," Julian said coldly. "Arthur Sterling is facing twenty-five years in federal prison for corporate manslaughter and environmental fraud. A man staring down a life sentence does not have boundaries.
The only way to protect you...
is to make sure the entire city believes that child carries the Moretti bloodline.
No judge in this state will sign an order against my family."
Dela looked at the glass of water in her hand, then looked into his storm-gray eyes.
"And what happens when the truth comes out?" she asked.
"The truth is whatever I say it is, Delilah," Julian murmured, his fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek with a tenderness that took her breath away.
"Elias was my brother in arms.
His blood is my blood.
May you like
And as long as I am breathing...
no one will ever make you feel small again."
