Chapter 7 - The Night Chicago Watched Us Fight
Lorenzo recovered quickly.
Too quickly, according to his doctors.
Too slowly, according to himself.
He wanted revenge.
I wanted justice.
Those were not the same thing.
“Victor should go to prison,” I said.
“He killed my father.”
“So did the state.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
“No, Amelia.”
He stood.
“He murdered everyone who ever tried to expose him.”
“And if you kill him, what makes you different?”
The question silenced him.
For the first time, I saw rage beneath his calm.
We fought that night.
Not physically.
Worse.
With words.
He accused me of trusting the law too much.
I accused him of letting revenge control him.
Then he said something that broke my heart.
“You knew who I was before you married me.”
“I knew the rumors.”
“You knew enough.”
“I knew the man who protected me.”
“And you still think I’m capable of becoming him?”
I looked away.
“I think you’re capable of becoming whatever you choose.”
He went silent.
Then he left.
For three days, we barely spoke.
During that time, Chicago exploded with rumors.
Lorenzo was losing control.
His marriage was falling apart.
Victor was about to take over.
The three women from the beach returned to the news cycle.
One gave an interview saying she had always believed Lorenzo would eventually come back to her.
I didn’t care.
What hurt was the silence in my apartment.
The place felt empty without him.
Then one evening, I received a package.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Victor.
And another man.
The caption beneath it read:
“The man you trust most is the one who betrayed your father.”
I recognized the third man.
Matteo.
I immediately called Lorenzo.
No answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Panic filled me.
I drove to Matteo’s safe house.
The door was open.
Inside, blood covered the floor.
Matteo was missing.
A note lay on the table.
“Come alone.”
I knew it was a trap.
But I also knew Lorenzo would come after me whether I wanted him to or not.
So I called him again.
This time he answered.
“Where are you?”
“With Matteo.”
Silence.
“Amelia, listen carefully. Do not move.”
“I’m not alone.”
“You are if Victor has you.”
Then I heard his voice change.
“I’m coming.”
The warehouse where Victor held Matteo was on the Chicago River.
I arrived first.
Men surrounded me.
Victor stepped from the shadows.
He was older than I remembered from the photograph.
But his eyes were exactly the same.
“You look like your mother.”
“Where is Matteo?”
“He’s alive.”
“Where’s Lorenzo?”
“He’ll come.”
“You’re using me.”
Victor smiled.
“You always were the key.”
He revealed the entire truth.
My father had not merely protected Lorenzo’s mother.
He had stolen money from Victor.
Millions.
Money intended for criminal operations.
He moved it into legitimate accounts and used it to build businesses that eventually became the foundation of Lorenzo’s empire.
That was why Victor wanted everything back.
“You ruined me,” Victor told me.
“My father ruined you.”
“Your father stole from me.”
“He saved people.”
Victor laughed.
“People die every day.”
“No.”
I looked him straight in the eyes.
“Men like you make them die.”
That enraged him.
He raised a gun.
Before he could fire, the warehouse doors exploded inward.
Lorenzo.
His men stormed the building.
Gunfire erupted.
I ducked behind a crate.
Lorenzo fought his way toward me.
Victor ran.
Matteo escaped his restraints and joined the fight.
Then the police arrived.
Someone had tipped them off.
I looked at Lorenzo.
He hadn’t made the call.
Neither had Matteo.
My mother had.
She had turned over the recordings.
Victor was arrested alive.
Lorenzo stood over him.
Everyone expected him to pull the trigger.
He didn’t.
He lowered the gun.
“I’m not you.”
Victor stared at him.
“You’ll regret this.”
Lorenzo smiled coldly.
“No.”
He handed the gun to the police.
“I already regret what I became trying to defeat you.”
That night, we went home together.
Lorenzo stood on the balcony overlooking Chicago.
“You were right,” he said.
“About what?”
“I don’t want to kill him.”
I smiled.
He turned toward me.
“I want to live.”
I stepped closer.
“With me?”
“With you.”
Then he kissed me.
This time there was nothing strategic about it.
No cameras.
No fake marriage.
No threat.
Just two people who had survived a world determined to keep them apart.
But as we stood together, Lorenzo’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
I watched his face.
He ended the call.
“Victor has been released.”
My heart sank.
“How?”
“Someone inside the system helped him.”
“Who?”
May you like
Lorenzo looked at me.
“We have one more enemy.”
