CHAPTER 8
Two months passed like a dream I never wanted to wake up from, completely transforming every aspect of my life. The fiberglass cast was finally removed from my left arm, leaving only a thin, neat pink surgical scar behind.
I spent my days exploring the massive estate, reading in the vast library, and learning how to live without constant fear. For the first time in my adult life, I didn't have to ask permission to speak, walk, or breathe.
Vincent was often away during the day, managing his vast business empire across the five boroughs of New York. But every single evening at seven o'clock sharp, his car pulled up the driveway, and he dined with me.
We sat across from each other at the long dining table, talking for hours about everything and nothing at all. He listened to me with an intense, undivided attention that made me feel like the only person in the world.
Slowly, the dark, dangerous criminal boss revealed a deeply protective, fiercely loyal man underneath his terrifying reputation. He showed me a side of himself that no one else in New York was ever allowed to witness.
One crisp October evening, Vincent invited me onto the grand stone terrace overlooking the manicured back gardens of the estate. The city skyline flickered in the distant south, a galaxy of diamond lights against the midnight sky.
He wrapped a soft cashmere shawl around my shoulders, standing behind me to block the chilly autumn wind with his broad frame.
"Are you happy here, Lena?" he asked quietly, resting his hands gently on the stone balustrade beside mine.
I turned my head to look at him, taking in his strong jawline, silver-streaked hair, and eyes that held the universe.
"I’ve never known what peace felt like until I walked into this house," I answered honestly, leaning back against his chest. "You gave me back my life, Vincent. I don't even know how to begin thanking you for that."
Vincent wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close until there was zero space left between us.
"You don't need to thank me," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Having you here has brought light into a house that was dark for far too long."
Before I could reply, the heavy glass doors to the terrace opened, and Frank stepped out onto the stone patio. His face was unusually pale, his posture rigid as he held an old, yellowed envelope in his leather-gloved hand.
"Boss," Frank interrupted, his voice tight with a tension I hadn't heard since the night of the Russian warehouse raid. "We have a massive problem at the docks in New Jersey."
Vincent didn't release his hold on me; he simply turned his head toward Frank, his eyes narrowing into dark slits.
"What kind of problem?" Vincent asked coldly, sensing the shift in the air immediately.
"The Commission has called an emergency meeting for midnight," Frank reported, holding out the old envelope. "The Moretti family's leadership is being formally challenged by the old families from Italy."
I felt Vincent's muscles tense against my back, his posture shifting back into the ruthless leader of the underworld.
"On what grounds?" Vincent demanded, taking the letter and tearing it open with a single swift motion.
May you like
Frank looked at me nervously before leaning in to speak the final, devastating sentence that shattered our calm night.
"They claim you broke the high code by using syndicate resources to eliminate a non-mafia target," Frank revealed softly. "They are demanding that you turn Lena over to them to face execution for starting a gang war."
