Chapter 3 - The Golden Cage
The room Alexander led her to on the top floor of the Moretti stronghold was larger than the entire apartment Emily had lived in before marrying Derek. It was decorated in muted tones of charcoal and cream, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glowing skyline of downtown Chicago.
A private physician—a quiet, middle-aged woman named Dr. Helen—had spent thirty minutes tending to Emily’s injuries. She applied a soothing cooling salve to the dark, ugly bruises on Emily’s wrist, wrapped her sprained ankle, and gave her a warm cup of herbal tea infused with a mild sedative.
Emily sat on the edge of the massive king-sized bed, wrapped in a plush white bathrobe, staring at her clean, bandaged hands.
For three years, her world had consisted of walking on eggshells. She had learned to anticipate Derek’s moods by the sound of his key in the front door, the speed of his footsteps, or the way he poured his evening drink. She had been isolated from her friends, cut off from her family, and convinced that no one would ever help her because Derek owned everyone—the police, the judges, the neighborhood.
Yet here she was, sitting in the heart of the most dangerous criminal empire in the Midwest, feeling safer than she had in years.
A soft knock sounded at the door. Emily jumped, her hand instinctively flying to her neck.
"It's just me, Emily," Alexander’s voice called out gently before the door pushed open.
He had removed his suit jacket, rolling the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt up to his elbows, revealing strong, corded forearms covered in faint, faded scars. He held a silver tray containing a bowl of hot soup and fresh bread.
"I brought you something to eat," Alexander said, setting the tray down on the nightstand beside her. "Dr. Helen said you haven't eaten a proper meal today."
Emily looked at the food, then up at Alexander. "Why are you doing this?" she asked softly. "You don't know me. My husband... he’s a powerful man in this city. He’ll come after you."
A sharp, humorless smile touched Alexander’s lips as he pulled an armchair over and sat down across from her. "Your husband is a minor executive at a mid-tier financial firm, Emily. He controls junior accountants and elderly board members. I control the docks, the shipping lines, the municipal labor unions, and three members of the state supreme court. Derek Vance cannot touch a single blade of grass on my property."
Emily swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
Alexander looked at her, his expression unreadable. "My name is Alexander Moretti. People in this city call me many things. Most of them aren't very flattering."
"A mob boss," Emily whispered, the realization setting in.
"A businessman," Alexander corrected smoothly. "One who operates in the dark so that people like Derek Vance can pretend the world is clean and orderly. But I have one absolute rule in my organization, Emily: a man who uses his power to harm defenseless women and children is a coward. And I do not tolerate cowards in Chicago."
Emily looked down at her tea, a single tear slipping past her lashes. "He’s going to tell everyone I ran away because I’m crazy. He always does. He’ll file a police report."
Alexander reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek silver smartphone, and laid it on the table between them.
"Ten minutes ago, my legal team filed a formal restraining order against Derek Vance on your behalf," Alexander said calmly. "And twenty minutes ago, an anonymous leak was sent to the board of Vanguard Financial containing security footage from the restaurant tonight, showing your husband laying his hands on you in the main dining room."
Emily gasped, her head snapping up. "You... you did that already?"
"By tomorrow morning, Derek Vance’s corporate career will be in ruins," Alexander said, his grey eyes shining with a dark, satisfied light. "He will be so busy trying to save his reputation and avoid an internal investigation that he won't have time to look for you."
Emily stared at him, overwhelmed by the sheer velocity at which this stranger had completely dismantled the terror that had ruled her life for three years.
"Why?" she asked again, her voice barely a whisper. "What do you want from me?"
May you like
Alexander leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face dropping all traces of coldness, leaving only an intense, protective sincerity.
"I want you to sleep without fear tonight, Emily," Alexander said softly. "Tomorrow, we figure out how to give you back your life."
