Chapter 7 - A KISS BENEATH THE STORM|
The estate went into lockdown before sunrise.
Rosa assigned guards to the perimeter, checked every vehicle, and contacted the lawyer who had agreed to protect Claire. The guest room showed no sign of a struggle, but a service corridor camera had been disabled for exactly eleven minutes.
Someone had known the estate's security procedures.
Lorenzo wanted to send men across Chicago to find Claire. Rosa advised against a public search that might frighten her into hiding or expose the investigation.
“We need to determine whether she left willingly,” Rosa said. “Until we know, we treat this as a possible abduction.”
Abigail agreed.
The note, however, had changed everything.
“You should leave the estate,” Lorenzo told her.
“No.”
“Abigail, this is not a debate.”
“Then stop presenting it as a decision I have already made.”
He wheeled toward the window.
“They're threatening you because of me.”
“They're threatening me because they believe I'll abandon you.”
“And what if they are right?”
She approached him.
“Then you should have hired someone who frightens easily.”
He almost smiled, but fear quickly replaced the expression.
“You could be killed.”
“So could you. Yet everyone keeps telling you to sit quietly and accept it.”
He looked at her for a long time.
“I don't know how to protect someone without controlling everything around them.”
“Then learn.”
The words were harsh, but she softened her voice.
“You don't have to become the people who hurt you just because they taught you that power is the only way to survive.”
Lorenzo lowered his head.
For years, he had equated love with possession and loyalty with obedience. His father had taught him to be generous, but the criminal world had taught him that generosity created weaknesses other people could exploit.
Abigail was forcing him to consider a different kind of strength.
That afternoon, they went to the chapel with Rosa and two trusted guards. The old building stood beyond the garden, its stone walls darkened by rain and age. Inside, sunlight filtered through colored glass, illuminating rows of empty wooden pews.
Lorenzo stared at the altar.
“My mother used to bring me here when I was a child. She said the truth didn't become less true because powerful people refused to hear it.”
Abigail touched the brass key in her pocket.
“Then let's find out what your father wanted you to hear.”
They descended into the archive beneath the chapel. Dust covered the shelves, but a steel cabinet stood near the far wall. The key opened its lower compartment.
Inside lay a leather folder, several photographs, and a small digital recorder.
Lorenzo picked up the folder.
The first document was his father's original will. It left the legitimate family businesses to Lorenzo, with a separate charitable trust established for employees and community programs.
Matteo received a substantial inheritance, but no controlling interest in the empire.
The second document contained a handwritten note.
If you are reading this, someone has attempted to use your injury to seize what does not belong to them. Do not confuse blood with loyalty.
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Abigail found a second key taped beneath the recorder. It opened a small compartment at the bottom of the cabinet, revealing a memory card and a sealed envelope.
Before they could examine either, a sound echoed above them.
Footsteps.
Rosa reached for her weapon.
A man's voice called from the chapel entrance.
“Lorenzo! We know you're down there.”
Lorenzo recognized the voice of one of Matteo's senior associates.
Rosa ordered Abigail to move behind the stone pillar while she and the guards secured the staircase.
The footsteps grew louder.
Then came the sharp crack of a gunshot.
Abigail ducked as dust fell from the ceiling.
Lorenzo grabbed her hand.
“Go!”
They hurried toward a narrow passage at the rear of the archive. The passage emerged behind the chapel, where the rain had begun again.
They reached the shelter of an old stone wall before stopping.
Abigail was shaking.
Lorenzo turned toward her, his face filled with fear.
“I thought I'd lost you.”
“You haven't.”
He reached for her face, then paused.
“May I?”
She answered by leaning forward.
Their kiss was brief, trembling, and entirely different from the world waiting beyond the chapel walls. It was not a promise that everything would be easy. It was a promise that neither would pretend not to care.
When they separated, Abigail rested her forehead against his.
“We still have work to do,” she whispered.
“I know.”
A phone rang inside Lorenzo's coat.
Rosa had sent a message.
The chapel is secure. But the memory card is missing. Someone reached the archive before us.
Lorenzo looked toward the dark windows of the estate.
May you like
And realized the enemy had not been waiting outside.
The enemy had been following them all along.
