Chapter 2 - The Fortress on Lake Shore
"Pack their bags," Adrian said. He wasn't looking at the note anymore; he had dropped it onto the glass table as if it were coated in cyanide. His eyes were fixed on the door to the bedroom where our children lay sleeping.
"Adrian, we are not going anywhere with you," I said, my voice shaking as I tried to build a wall out of defiance. "I am taking Ethan and Emma to the airport. I have friends in federal law enforcement in Boston, I can—"
"You can get them killed on the interstate before you even clear Cook County," Adrian interrupted. He turned to me, his jaw clenched so tight the tendons in his neck looked like taut wire. "Listen to me, Evelyn. Look at that note. Look at those rattles. Those were in my family's private vault in Geneva. That vault requires biometric authentication and a physical key that was supposed to have been destroyed when my father died. Whoever has Vivian has access to things that can wipe Boston off the map."
"And whose fault is that?" I snapped, tears of pure fury burning the backs of my eyes. "That's *your* legacy, Adrian! Not mine! I spent six years eating stale bread, working eighteen-hour shifts in the lab, scrubbing formulas off blackboards while my feet bled, just so those children would never have to know the sound of a gun cocking!"
Adrian took a slow step toward me. He towered over me, a dark silhouette against the flickering neon lights of the Chicago skyline. For a second, the ruthless mafia don faded, and through the cracks of his hardened mask, I saw the raw, bleeding wound of a father who had just discovered his universe had been duplicated without his knowledge.
"And you did an extraordinary job," he said, his voice dropping to an agonizingly gentle whisper that disarmed me far more than his rage ever could. "You made them brilliant. You made them beautiful. Ethan looks at me like he wants to solve me like an equation, and Emma... Emma has your fire. But you are in Chicago now, Evelyn. And in this city, you are not Dr. Carter, the Harvard scholar. You are Evelyn Mercer. The woman who holds the keys to everything I own. Which means you and those children are the most valuable collateral on the North American continent."
Before I could reply, the bedroom door swung fully open.
Ethan stood there. He was wearing his favorite dinosaur pajamas, his dark hair tousled from sleep, his large gray-green eyes blinking against the suite's chandelier. In his small hands, he held his worn paperback copy of *A Brief History of Time*.
Behind him, Emma peeked out, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve, clutching her plush rabbit, Barnaby.
"Mom?" Ethan’s voice was small, but steady. He looked from me to Adrian, his gaze lingering on the weapon Adrian had quickly slipped back beneath his jacket, though the boy's sharp eyes had already registered the movement. "Is that the man from the airport? Why does he have a gun?"
Adrian went completely still. I had seen him face down rival cartel leaders without blinking, had heard stories of him taking three bullet wounds during a dockland takeover and refusing anesthesia while they stitched him up. But looking at our six-year-old son, Adrian Mercer looked terrified.
He slowly knelt down, bringing himself down to eye level with Ethan. He kept his hands open, palms up, resting against his thighs.
"I have a gun because it's my job to make sure bad people stay far away from this room," Adrian said softly. The cold, lethal edge had vanished from his voice, replaced by a quiet, steady patience that made my throat constrict.
Ethan didn't back away. He walked forward three steps, stopping just out of arm's reach. He tilted his head, evaluating Adrian with a maturity that broke my heart. "My mom says guns are for cowards who don't know how to use their words."
A faint, stunned smirk touched the corner of Adrian’s lips, though his eyes remained shadowed with pain. "Your mother is a very wise woman, Ethan. But sometimes, words don't stop wolves."
"Are you a wolf?" Emma piped up from the doorway, her voice bright and curious. She trotted over, completely bypassing Ethan's caution, and stopped right in front of Adrian. She looked at the silver in his hair, then reached out a tiny, sticky hand and patted his knee. "Mom said my daddy was an astronaut who got lost in space."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Adrian’s head snapped toward me, an agonizing question in his eyes. I looked down, unable to meet his gaze. What was I supposed to have told them? That their father was a billionaire prince of Chicago's underworld who had loved a dead woman more than us?
Adrian swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. He turned back to Emma, his expression softening into something so tender it made my chest ache.
"I wasn't in space, Emma," Adrian said, his voice thick with unspent emotion. "I was just... lost in the dark. But I found my way back."
"Can you carry me?" Emma asked, holding up her arms with the total, unearned trust of a six-year-old child. "My feet are cold."
Adrian hesitated for half a heartbeat, as if afraid that touching her might break the illusion. Then, with an infinite, trembling care, the most feared man in Illinois slipped his hands beneath Emma’s arms and lifted her against his broad chest. Emma immediately tucked her head into the crook of his neck, yawning.
"We leave now," Adrian told Marissa, his voice regaining its command, though he didn't take his eyes off Emma’s sleeping face. "Bring the armored convoy to the service basement. We're going to Lake Shore."
"Adrian, no," I protested, my voice cracking. "Not that house."
"The Lake Forest estate is compromised if Vivian has the legacy codes," Adrian said, turning his piercing gaze onto me. "The Lake Shore penthouse has biometric isolation, a Faraday cage, and thirty private security operatives who answer only to me. It's the only place in this hemisphere where I can guarantee your children will wake up alive tomorrow morning."
He walked toward the door, carrying our daughter as if she were made of spun glass, while Ethan walked tightly at my side, his small fingers wrapped around mine.
May you like
As we stepped into the private freight elevator, I looked at Adrian’s broad back. Six years ago, I had walked away to save my soul. Now, the devil himself was the only thing standing between my children and an invisible phantom who had haunted our lives before they had even drawn their first breath.
***
