Chapter 7 - When Sebastian Finally Stood, Every Enemy in Chicago Came for Him
The first assassination attempt came at a charity gala.
Sebastian was giving a speech.
I stood beside him.
He wore a black suit.
No wheelchair.
No cane.
The room went silent when he entered.
People stared.
Some cried.
Some looked terrified.
The man who had ruled Chicago from a chair was now walking.
His return changed everything.
A rival family feared his influence.
Former allies feared exposure.
Criminal organizations feared he would dismantle them.
Political figures feared what he knew.
And some simply wanted to kill the man who had become a symbol of survival.
A shot shattered a window.
Security moved instantly.
Sebastian grabbed me.
“Down.”
Another shot.
Then the lights died.
Chaos.
I heard people screaming.
Security rushed the doors.
Sebastian guided me behind a column.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Stay here.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You are stubborn.”
“So are you.”
A man attacked from behind.
Sebastian blocked him.
He was stronger now.
Faster.
He fought with controlled precision.
The attacker fell.
Police stormed the ballroom.
Outside, three vehicles escaped.
One was caught.
The shooter had a message.
Not for Sebastian.
For me.
The note said:
Your father knew the truth before your mother died.
I stared.
My father.
The man who had supposedly abandoned us.
He was alive.
Or had been.
We searched old records.
He had disappeared eighteen years ago.
No body.
No funeral.
Just gone.
One file connected him to Rafael.
Another connected him to Helena.
Sebastian looked at me.
“We find him.”
We did.
An old address outside Milwaukee.
A small house.
An elderly man answered.
When I saw his eyes, I knew.
“Dad?”
He broke.
“Claire.”
I couldn't move.
Twenty years of anger disappeared in a second.
I stepped inside.
He cried.
“I thought you were dead.”
“I thought you were.”
“I couldn't come back.”
“Why?”
“Rafael.”
My father sat.
“He threatened your mother.”
I listened.
“He threatened you.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought distance would protect you.”
“It didn't.”
He looked at Sebastian.
“You're walking.”
“Yes.”
My father cried again.
“I failed you.”
Sebastian said:
“You weren't the only one.”
My father explained everything.
He had helped Helena gather evidence.
He had tried to expose Rafael.
He was forced into hiding.
Before he left, he had hidden the final evidence.
Where?
A storage locker.
Under my mother's maiden name.
Inside was the original medical ledger.
The names of everyone involved.
More importantly:
A payment from a pharmaceutical executive to Rafael.
Proof that the corruption had been larger than the Lombardi organization.
It involved hospitals across the Midwest.
The investigation expanded.
My father came home.
Oliver finally met his grandfather.
They connected immediately.
Sebastian became part of our family slowly.
Not as a replacement.
As himself.
Oliver started calling him “Mr. Walking.”
Sebastian pretended to hate it.
He secretly loved it.
One evening, we sat on the balcony.
“I never thought I'd have this.”
“What?”
“A home.”
I looked at him.
“You have one.”
“With you.”
He said it so simply that I couldn't respond.
He took my hand.
“I don't know when it happened.”
“When what happened?”
“I stopped thinking about the future as something I would survive.”
My chest tightened.
“What do you think about now?”
He looked at me.
“Building one.”
I smiled.
Then he said:
“With you.”
I looked away.
“Sebastian.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“I know it's complicated.”
“It is.”
“You have Oliver.”
“And you have a criminal empire.”
“Had.”
I laughed.
“Fine. Had.”
He squeezed my hand.
“I don't want a transaction.”
“What do you want?”
“A choice.”
I looked at him.
He said:
“I want you to choose me when you're not afraid.”
I didn't answer.
Not yet.
Before I could, the phone rang.
A federal investigator.
May you like
Rafael had escaped custody.
And he had taken Oliver.
