Chapter 1 - Raphael Orsini Appeared at My Bedroom Door Drunk and Bleeding, Then Whispered He Had Wanted to Knock for 107 NightsThe knock came at exactly 2:07 a.m.
Three heavy knocks.
Not loud enough to wake the other staff.
But strong enough to rip me out of a deep sleep.
Rain hammered the mansion windows.
I grabbed my robe and crossed the small room I had been given in the servants' wing.
I expected an emergency.
Maybe a broken pipe.
Maybe one of the night guards needing coffee.
Maybe Mrs. Bell's blood pressure had dropped again.
Instead, I opened the door and found Raphael Orsini.
My employer.
Chicago's most feared crime boss.
He looked nothing like the perfectly composed man who ruled the city with quiet authority.
His expensive black coat clung to him, soaked through by the storm.
His shirt was buttoned incorrectly.
A cut split his lower lip.
His dark hair was plastered against his forehead.
And the unmistakable scent of whiskey surrounded him.
Raphael never drank.
Not socially.
Not privately.
Not even on Christmas.
He had once told me alcohol made people careless.
For two years, I had watched him command rooms full of dangerous men without raising his voice once.
Every morning, powerful men waited outside his office for instructions.
Politicians called him.
Businessmen feared him.
Criminals obeyed him.
Yet here he was barely able to stand.
His tired gray eyes met mine.
“I can't do this anymore.”
Those six words froze me.
Every sensible part of me wanted to close the door.
I needed this job.
My little brother Micah depended on the medical treatment I paid for every month.
Losing my salary wasn't an option.
But I couldn't leave Raphael standing in the hallway.
I grabbed his sleeve.
“Come inside.”
He stumbled.
I pulled him through the staff corridor.
We moved through shadows.
The security lights were dimmed for the night.
I knew every blind spot.
Every corridor camera.
Every door that didn't lock properly.
We reached the unused kitchen.
I turned on one small lamp.
“Sit.”
He collapsed into a chair.
I filled a glass with water.
He didn't drink.
He stared through the rain-covered window.
“They all need something from me.”
His voice barely sounded like his own.
“Money. Orders. Protection. Decisions.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Every single day.”
I remained standing.
“Mr. Orsini, you're drunk.”
“I know.”
“You should sleep.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I close my eyes, I see the same thing.”
“What?”
His eyes found mine.
“You.”
I stopped breathing.
He looked away.
“You've never asked me for anything.”
“I get paid to do my job.”
“That isn't what I mean.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
And it frightened me.
Raphael was my employer.
I was his housekeeper.
We occupied completely different worlds.
He had power.
I had medical bills.
He owned half the city's legitimate businesses and several that didn't officially exist.
I was counting coins at the end of every month.
There could never be anything between us.
“You'll regret saying this tomorrow.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don't think I've ever been more certain about anything.”
Before I could answer, voices echoed upstairs.
Raphael's entire expression changed.
The drunken softness vanished.
The man everyone feared returned.
He stood.
“Who's here?”
“I don't know.”
Footsteps grew louder.
Then the unmistakable sound of multiple doors opening.
Someone shouted:
“Check every room!”
Raphael stared at me.
“Hide me.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“Later.”
“Are they your men?”
“No.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
He stepped closer.
“People who believe I'm already dead.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He grabbed my hand.
“Please.”
It was the first time I'd ever heard Raphael Orsini say that word.
Not an order.
A plea.
I led him beneath the old servants' staircase.
Behind a wooden panel was forgotten storage space.
I had discovered it during my first month.
I opened the hidden door.
“Get inside.”
He crouched.
I pulled the door almost shut.
His hand caught my wrist.
“One hundred seven nights.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
His haunted eyes never left mine.
“It’s how long I've wanted to knock on your door.”
Then someone shouted from the hallway.
“HE'S HERE!”
Raphael released me.
I shut the door.
Footsteps approached.
My heart pounded.
Three men entered the kitchen.
One carried a gun.
Another had blood on his sleeve.
The third looked directly at me.
“Where is Mr. Orsini?”
I forced myself to breathe.
“I don't know.”
The man stepped closer.
“You were awake.”
“No.”
“You opened your door.”
“I heard the rain.”
He stared at me.
“You're lying.”
My fingers tightened around the kitchen towel.
Then a phone rang from beneath the staircase.
My blood froze.
The man's eyes moved toward the sound.
I realized Raphael had forgotten to silence his phone.
The man reached for his weapon.
I stepped between him and the staircase.
And suddenly I understood.
Whatever had happened tonight was not merely Raphael running from enemies.
May you like
Someone had been planning his disappearance.
And somehow, I had just become the person standing between him and death.
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