Chapter 3 - Derek Threatened Vincent, So Vincent Took Me to the Most Secure Place in Chicago—and I Discovered Why Everyone Feared His NameVincent's main residence was nothing like the safehouse.
It was enormous.
Stone walls.
Private gardens.
Security everywhere.
But inside, it was surprisingly warm.
Family photographs.
Books.
A piano.
A dining room filled with sunlight.
I stared at the pictures.
He noticed.
“You expected something darker.”
“I expected fewer family photos.”
He laughed.
“My mother hated empty walls.”
His mother.
I had heard stories.
She had died years earlier.
Vincent rarely talked about her.
A housekeeper named Rosa welcomed me.
She hugged me immediately.
“You're too thin.”
I laughed.
“I get that a lot.”
She looked at my belly.
“Baby?”
“Girl.”
Rosa smiled.
“Then you're family now.”
I almost cried.
Vincent looked uncomfortable.
“Rosa.”
“What?”
“Don't scare her.”
“I’m not.”
She turned to me.
“I'm just telling the truth.”
For the first time, I felt something dangerous.
Comfort.
I had forgotten what it felt like.
The next morning, Vincent took me to the doctor.
The appointment was private.
He waited outside.
Afterward, I found him speaking to two men.
Their faces became serious when they saw me.
Vincent dismissed them.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
“What were they talking about?”
“Business.”
“What kind?”
“The kind you don't want to know about.”
I smiled.
“That sounds ominous.”
“It is.”
I began working on rebuilding my life.
I applied for an office position.
Vincent arranged a legitimate opportunity through one of his companies.
I refused.
“I don't want charity.”
“It isn't.”
“You own the company.”
“So?”
“I don't want people thinking I got the job because of you.”
“Then earn it.”
That answer surprised me.
I took the interview.
I got the job.
I started working remotely.
For the first time in years, I earned money that Derek couldn't control.
My confidence returned.
Slowly.
Then Derek attacked financially.
He froze the joint account.
Canceled my insurance.
Tried to evict me from the apartment where we had lived.
My attorney fought it.
Vincent offered help.
I accepted legal help.
Not money.
That distinction mattered.
One evening, he asked me:
“Why do you still feel guilty?”
“Because I married him.”
“That was a choice.”
“I stayed.”
“That was survival.”
“You make everything sound simple.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I just don't believe suffering makes you guilty.”
I looked away.
Then he added:
“You don't owe anyone a punishment for surviving.”
I cried.
He didn't touch me.
He waited.
Eventually, I reached for his hand.
He let me hold it.
That was the first time.
A quiet thing.
No dramatic music.
No kiss.
Just two people sitting in a kitchen while the rain hit the windows.
Then my phone rang.
Derek.
I answered before thinking.
“You're insane,” he said.
I froze.
“Stay away from me.”
“You think Vincent can keep you forever?”
“He doesn't own me.”
“He owns you now.”
“No.”
My voice became stronger.
“He protects me.”
Derek laughed.
“He protects nobody.”
I looked at Vincent.
He heard.
Derek continued.
“You don't know who he is.”
I said:
“I know enough.”
Then I hung up.
Vincent looked at me.
“You shouldn't have answered.”
“I needed to.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted him to hear my voice.”
He nodded.
“You did.”
That night, Derek sent a final message.
I KNOW WHERE YOUR SISTER LIVES.
My blood ran cold.
Vincent saw the screen.
“What does he know?”
I showed him.
His expression changed.
He made one phone call.
“Move her.”
Within an hour, my sister was somewhere safe.
I watched Vincent work.
No shouting.
No chaos.
Just decisions.
People obeyed him instantly.
He had power.
Real power.
And for the first time, I understood why Derek had been so frightened of him.
But Vincent never used that power against me.
He used it to create distance between me and danger.
Then he came to my room.
He stood outside.
“Your sister is safe.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
He turned.
“Vincent?”
He looked back.
“Why me?”
He thought for a moment.
“Because you said yes when someone asked if you were hurt.”
I frowned.
“That’s it?”
“That was the beginning.”
He left.
I smiled.
That night, I slept without nightmares.
For the first time in two years.
But morning brought a new problem.
A photo appeared online.
Me.
Vincent.
Walking out of the hospital.
The headline read:
MAFIA BOSS HIDES PREGNANT WOMAN FROM POLICE DETECTIVE.
Derek had gone public.
He was trying to make Vincent look like a criminal manipulating me.
And he had one more weapon.
A lie that could destroy everything.
He claimed the baby wasn't his.
He claimed I had been having an affair.
The internet exploded.
I stared at the screen.
Vincent stood beside me.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“Do you want to fight this?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“Then we fight.”
Not for him.
May you like
Not for revenge.
For the truth.
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