Chapter 2 - The Warning No One Could Explain
I barely slept.
The message stayed on my phone until three in the morning, glowing beside my bed.
Your father left more behind than you were told.
Stay away from Lorenzo Duca.
The first sentence terrified me.
The second confused me.
My father had been dead for three years.
He had owned Hart & Stone Architecture, a small but respected firm that had struggled after his death. I inherited the business, sold most of the equipment, and rebuilt it around residential restoration projects.
As far as I knew, my father had lived a quiet life.
He hated debt.
He hated drama.
He hated dishonest people.
He had certainly never mentioned Lorenzo Duca.
At seven in the morning, I called the police.
The officer who answered listened carefully.
“Do you know who sent it?”
“No.”
“Any disputes with anyone?”
“No.”
“Any recent threats?”
I hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
I looked at the message.
“I recently met a man.”
“Who?”
“Lorenzo Duca.”
Silence.
Then the officer cleared his throat.
“Ms. Hart, I would strongly recommend you avoid unnecessary contact with him.”
That was not the response I expected.
“So you know him?”
“Everyone knows of him.”
“He has threatened me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you think he’s dangerous.”
“I think people around him are dangerous.”
I thanked him and ended the call.
Ten minutes later, there was a knock on my studio door.
I opened it to find one of Lorenzo’s bodyguards.
The same man from the beach.
“Mr. Duca asked me to bring you this.”
He handed me an envelope.
I didn’t take it immediately.
“What is it?”
“A copy of your father’s property file.”
My heartbeat increased.
“Where did he get that?”
“I don’t know.”
I took it.
Inside were copies of documents I had never seen.
The address belonged to a warehouse near the Chicago River.
My father’s name appeared on several records.
But there was another name.
Duca Holdings.
I stared at the pages.
“Why does Lorenzo have these?”
“He believes someone wants you frightened.”
“And?”
“He believes the person knows something you don’t.”
I looked up.
“Does he know who?”
The bodyguard’s expression hardened.
“Mr. Duca is trying to find out.”
“Why?”
He hesitated.
“Because he thinks your father once protected his family.”
That sentence changed everything.
Later that afternoon, Lorenzo came to my studio.
I pushed the documents toward him.
“Explain.”
He sat across from me.
“My father knew yours.”
“How?”
“They worked together.”
“My father was an architect.”
“He was also a financial advisor for private investments.”
I stared at him.
“That isn’t in any record.”
“Not the public ones.”
“Did my father know what your family did?”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“And he still worked with you?”
“He didn’t work for us.”
“Then what was he doing?”
“Protecting someone.”
“Who?”
Lorenzo’s jaw tightened.
“My mother.”
I waited.
He continued.
“Before I took control of my family’s business, there was a war inside the organization. My uncle wanted control. My father wanted out. My mother discovered where the money was going.”
“Money?”
“Millions.”
“From where?”
“Human trafficking.”
I froze.
“Your family was involved in that?”
“My family was almost destroyed because of it.”
He leaned forward.
“My father refused to participate. My uncle did not.”
I looked at the documents.
“And mine?”
“Your father found evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“Everything.”
The room felt suddenly too small.
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because he wanted you safe.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He protected me so well that someone is now threatening me.”
Lorenzo accepted the accusation without defending himself.
“That is why I’m here.”
“You think this is connected to you.”
“I know it is.”
“Then stay away from me.”
His eyes sharpened.
“I tried.”
“What?”
“I told myself the beach meant nothing.”
“And?”
“And then you rejected me.”
I stared at him.
He looked almost frustrated.
“I am used to people wanting my approval. You didn’t even want my conversation.”
“That’s not exactly a confession of love.”
“I didn’t say love.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying you made me curious.”
I looked away.
“Curiosity gets people killed around you.”
“I know.”
He stood.
“I can protect you.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“This isn’t about a bodyguard.”
“Then what is it about?”
“Trust.”
I looked at him.
For a man feared by half the city, he sounded strangely sincere.
Before I could respond, the windows shattered.
Glass exploded inward.
Lorenzo moved faster than I could process.
He pulled me down.
A gunshot cracked through the room.
His body covered mine.
I heard shouting.
Then another shot.
His guards rushed in.
Lorenzo looked over his shoulder.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He stood immediately.
“Lock the building down.”
One of his men ran outside.
I remained on the floor, shaking.
Lorenzo reached down and helped me up.
There was blood on his sleeve.
“Are you shot?”
“No.”
“Then whose blood?”
He looked at his arm.
A small cut.
“Glass.”
I stared at him.
“You knew this would happen.”
“No.”
“But you were ready.”
“Yes.”
He pulled his phone from his pocket.
“From now on, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
“That sounds like an order.”
“It is.”
I glared.
“I’m not one of your employees.”
“No.”
His gaze held mine.
“You’re someone I need alive.”
The words sent a strange chill through me.
Not because they were romantic.
Because they were frighteningly serious.
That evening Lorenzo moved me to a secured apartment.
I argued.
He ignored me.
Then he showed me something.
A photograph.
My father standing beside Lorenzo’s father.
Between them was a young girl.
My mother.
I stared.
Lorenzo said quietly,
“There’s one more person in that picture.”
I looked closer.
A man stood in the shadows.
Half his face was hidden.
But I recognized him.
I had seen him once before.
At my father’s funeral.
He had told me he was an old family friend.
My pulse jumped.
“Who is he?”
Lorenzo answered.
“My uncle.”
The man who had tried to destroy Lorenzo’s family.
The man who had supposedly disappeared fifteen years ago.
The man who might have a reason to come after me.
The man who had just sent me a warning.
And suddenly I understood the real question.
May you like
He wasn’t trying to keep me away from Lorenzo.
He was trying to keep me away from the truth.
