Chapter 4 - The Fortress on the LakeBy 2:00 PM, our convoy pulled through the heavy iron gates of the Viscari estate in Lake Forest—a massive, impenetrable stone manor sitting on fifty acres of private woodland along the shores of Lake Michigan.
High security walls, thermal surveillance cameras, and armed security officers in dark suits patrolled every inch of the perimeter.
Vincent carried our personal belongings inside himself, refusing to let my brother or me carry a single heavy bag.
He led us up to a grand, sunlit suite on the second floor overlooking the lake—a warm suite featuring two master bedrooms, a private kitchen, a stone fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows showing the blue, rolling waves of the water outside.
“This is your private wing,” Vincent explained, setting our bags down near the fireplace. “My personal guards are posted outside the door twenty-four hours a day. No one enters without your permission.”
Matthew sat on the plush leather sofa, holding a warm cup of hot chocolate that the estate chef had brought him, still looking shell-shocked by the events of the morning.
“Uncle Vincent...?” Matthew spoke up quietly, using the title for the very first time.
Vincent paused near the doorway, turning back to look at his nephew with a soft, genuine warmth in his dark eyes. “Yes, Matthew?”
“Are we ever going back to our apartment in River North?” Matthew asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Vincent walked over, kneeling beside the sofa so he was eye-level with my brother.
“Your old apartment isn't safe anymore, Matthew,” Vincent answered with complete, unvarnished honesty. “The men who came after you today belong to a family that has been at war with ours for thirty years. But I give you my word as a Viscari: as long as you are under this roof, no one in this world will ever threaten your life again.”
He reached out, placing a firm, reassuring hand on Matthew’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before standing up.
“Rest now,” Vincent said, looking at me. “Lucy, step into my study when you are ready.”
Ten minutes later, after making sure Matthew was settled and comfortable in his room, I walked down the long, carpeted hallway to Vincent’s primary study.
The study was massive, lined with antique books, sword displays, and a large mahogany desk facing the lake.
Vincent stood by the window, holding a glass of amber whiskey, staring out at the rain hitting the glass.
“Thank you, Vincent,” I spoke softly from the doorway. “For saving Matthew.”
Vincent didn't turn around immediately. “You don't need to thank me for protecting my blood, Lucy.”
I stepped into the room, walking over to stand beside him at the window.
“Why did my mother run away, Vincent?” I asked gently, my voice filled with years of longing. “Why didn't she come to you for help twenty-two years ago?”
Vincent took a slow sip of his whiskey, his face turning into a portrait of deep, dark grief.
“Because twenty-two years ago, I was young, foolish, and powerless,” Vincent admitted quietly, his voice cracking slightly. “Our father, Lorenzo, was a cruel, ambitious man. He arranged for your mother to marry Paulie Moretti’s older brother, Dominic—a vicious man who treated women like cattle. When Sofia refused, our father threatened to lock her away.”
He turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes reflecting the grey light of the lake.
“Sofia stole our father’s master financial ledger—the ledger containing every bribe, every land deed, and every criminal contract the Viscari family possessed—and vanished into the night,” Vincent revealed. “She did it to destroy our father’s leverage and protect her unborn child. You.”
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I touched the silver pendant resting around my neck—a pendant my mother had given me on her deathbed.
“The ledger...” I whispered, realization dawning on me like a lightning bolt. “She didn't bury it, Vincent. She hid it inside the silver pendant she gave me.”
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