Chapter 6
The hallway filled with smoke and flashing red light.
My first instinct was to run.
My second was to freeze.
Alessandro did neither.
He took my hand, then paused.
“May I?”
Even in chaos, he asked.
That nearly broke me.
“Yes.”
His fingers closed around mine.
Warm.
Firm.
Not pulling until I moved with him.
Agent Donovan led us toward the stairwell.
“Keep your head down.”
The smoke burned my throat.
People rushed past us in pajamas and coats.
Some real residents.
Some agents.
Maybe some enemies.
I could not tell anymore.
Every face looked like a threat.
My hand stayed over my stomach.
Alessandro noticed and shifted closer, shielding me from the movement without crowding me.
We reached the stairwell.
Then Agent Donovan stopped.
Too fast.
A man stood two floors below, looking up.
Maintenance uniform.
Cap low.
Scar across his knuckles.
My blood turned to ice.
The man from three years ago.
The one who warned me outside nursing school.
He smiled.
“Hello, Elizabeth.”
My knees almost gave out.
Alessandro stepped in front of me.
Agent Donovan drew her weapon.
“Federal agent. Hands where I can see them.”
The man lifted both hands slowly.
Empty.
Still smiling.
“No need for drama.”
Then the stairwell door behind us opened.
Another man rushed in.
Alessandro moved before I understood.
He shoved me behind him as the man swung a metal flashlight toward his head.
The blow caught Alessandro’s shoulder instead.
He grunted but stayed standing.
Agent Donovan turned.
The scarred man bolted down the stairs.
The second man lunged again.
Alessandro caught his wrist and slammed him into the wall.
Hard.
The flashlight hit the floor.
Agent Donovan kicked it away and cuffed him in one clean motion.
“Go!” she shouted.
But Alessandro was already looking at me.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
His shoulder hung stiffly.
“You are.”
“Later.”
We went up instead of down.
To the roof.
Cold night air slapped my face when we burst through the door.
Two agents waited near a second stairwell.
A helicopter thundered somewhere above the clouds.
I bent over, coughing.
Alessandro kept one hand near my back without touching.
Agent Donovan spoke into her radio.
“Primary route compromised. Suspect with scarred right hand fleeing south stairwell. Secondary extraction now.”
I grabbed her sleeve.
“That was him.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. He threatened me after my father died.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Can you identify him?”
“Yes.”
Alessandro’s face went still.
“You saw him before?”
“He told me to stop asking questions.”
“When?”
“Three days after the funeral.”
His eyes darkened.
“And Liam knew?”
I hesitated.
“I told Liam someone threatened me. I never knew the man’s name.”
Agent Donovan’s radio crackled.
“Suspect in custody at rear exit.”
Relief hit so fast I swayed.
Alessandro caught my elbow.
This time I let him.
The scarred man was arrested before dawn.
His name was Dominic Rafe.
Former security contractor.
Hired muscle for Victor Sloane, the Obsidian contracts executive my father named in the video.
Sloane had vanished two hours before the fire alarm.
So had Councilman Reeves.
Harold Crane from the hospital board was found at O’Hare with a one-way ticket and three burner phones.
The old network was cracking.
And I was the pressure point.
By morning, Agent Donovan changed the plan.
“No Madison,” she said. “Too many people knew. We’re moving you to Vitali property.”
I stiffened.
“No.”
Alessandro spoke at the same time.
“That is not her safest option.”
Agent Donovan looked at us both.
“It is if the property is already secured, privately staffed, and not listed under his name.”
I looked at Alessandro.
He hesitated.
“My mother’s lake house.”
“Your mother?”
“She died eight years ago. The property is held in a trust under her maiden name. Very few people know I still maintain it.”
Agent Donovan nodded.
“That is why it works.”
I hated that it made sense.
I hated more that I wanted to say yes.
Because I was tired.
Because the baby needed me alive.
Because the man with scarred knuckles had found a federal safe residence in one night.
“Fine,” I said. “But I want my own room. My own phone. My own car if possible.”
“Yes,” Alessandro said immediately.
“And no Vitali family members.”
His face tightened.
“My younger sister may need to know. She manages some of my secure properties.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then no.”
Agent Donovan watched him carefully.
“You understand this is temporary.”
“Yes.”
The lake house sat two hours north, hidden behind pine trees and a long private road.
It was not what I expected.
No gates with lions.
No marble fountain.
No cold mansion.
Just a wide stone house with green shutters, old wooden floors, and windows facing gray water.
It felt quiet.
Not empty.
Quiet.
Alessandro carried my bags to the downstairs guest room and left them by the door.
He did not step inside until I said, “It’s okay.”
“This was my mother’s favorite room,” he said.
“Why?”
“She said sunrise came here first.”
The bedspread was pale blue.
A small painting of wildflowers hung beside the window.
For the first time in days, my body loosened slightly.
Then I noticed the photograph on the dresser.
A woman with dark hair and gentle eyes stood beside a teenage Alessandro.
He looked thinner.
Angrier.
Trying not to need anyone.
“She was beautiful,” I said.
“She was kind.”
His voice held grief carefully folded.
“What was her name?”
“Isabella.”
I looked at the room again.
“No one should hide in a dead woman’s room.”
He looked at me sharply.
“I don’t want you to hide here. I want you to rest.”
The difference mattered.
That evening, Agent Donovan set up the secure perimeter with Alessandro’s private team.
I met his doctor, Dr. Elena Ruiz, who confirmed I was about six weeks pregnant and dehydrated from stress.
When she asked if I wanted Alessandro in the room, I said no.
He left without a word.
Another point in his favor.
I was annoyed by how many he was collecting.
Dr. Ruiz was gentle.
“The pregnancy is early. You need rest, fluids, follow-up bloodwork, and as little stress as your situation allows.”
I laughed.
She smiled sadly.
“Yes. I know.”
After she left, I sat on the dock wrapped in a coat.
The lake was black under the evening sky.
Alessandro came down the path with two mugs.
“Ginger tea,” he said. “No coffee.”
I took one.
He sat several feet away.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then I said, “Did your father kill my father?”
He looked at the lake.
“I don’t know.”
“Would you tell me if he did?”
“Yes.”
“Even if it destroyed your family name?”
He turned to me.
“My family name has survived too many lies. Maybe it deserves truth for once.”
I looked down at the tea.
“Liam said I was a womb with a Vitali heir.”
Alessandro’s face hardened.
“He was wrong.”
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
His answer was immediate.
Then softer.
“You are Elizabeth. A nursing student. Thomas Monroe’s daughter. A woman who likes porch lights and hates being cornered. The child is part of you. Not the whole of you.”
Tears burned my eyes.
I looked away.
“You remember too much.”
“I remember everything from that night.”
The air changed.
Not romantic.
Not safe enough for that.
But honest.
Then his phone buzzed.
He read the message, and every softness vanished.
“What?” I asked.
He stood.
“Agent Donovan unlocked another file.”
My heart started pounding.
“What does it say?”
May you like
His eyes met mine.
“My father ordered your father followed the night he died.”
