Chapter 3 - The Sanctuary of Shadows
The black armored sedan tore through the rain-slicked streets of the city like a midnight phantom.
I sat in the middle of the spacious leather backseat, clenching my teeth while baby Leo slept peacefully in my arms. He had refused to sit in his high-tech infant car seat; the moment Lucian tried to unclamp his small hands from my shirt, the child had let out a blood-curdling shriek. So here I was, cradling the son of the city's most feared criminal boss while two armed men sat in the front seat, their eyes constantly scanning the side mirrors.
Lucian sat beside me in the back, a dark wool coat draped over his broad shoulders. He was on his encrypted phone, issuing cold, precise commands in rapid Italian.
"Find the shooter," Lucian ordered, his voice dripping with icy venom. "Check the traffic cameras on Fifth and Elm. If the Rossi family sent them, tear down their docks by morning. Nobody touches my blood."
He hung up, tossing the satellite phone onto the seat between us. The heavy silence returned, filled only by the soft purr of the V12 engine and the gentle breathing of the sleeping child against my chest.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked quietly, looking out the tinted window at the passing city lights.
"To my estate," Lucian said without turning his head. "It’s a fortified compound twenty miles north. You’ll be safe there."
"Safe?" I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "I was safe an hour ago when I was carrying plates of pasta! Now I’m riding in a bulletproof car with a man who has a price on his head!"
Lucian slowly turned to face me. In the dim amber ambient light of the car, the jagged scar across his left cheek looked carved from marble. "You weren't safe, Elina. You were living in a tiny apartment on Forty-Second Street, three weeks behind on rent, working sixty hours a week for a manager who skims your tips."
I froze. "How do you know that?"
"I know everything about everyone who works in my territory," Lucian said plainly. "Restorante Orelio is owned by one of my front companies. I went there tonight because my sister insisted I try taking Leo out into the world. He hasn't slept for more than two hours at a time since Clara died. He rejects every nurse, every nanny, every bottle."
He looked down at his son, his expression softening just an inch. "Until he saw you."
"Why does he think I'm his mother?" I whispered, looking down at the baby's soft golden curls. "And why do I look like her?"
Lucian was quiet for a long moment. He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small leather wallet. He opened it, revealing a high-definition photograph of Clara.
Up close, the resemblance was staggering. It wasn't just a vague similarity—she had my oval face, my dark eyebrows, my delicate nose, and the small, distinct dimple on her left cheek. The only difference was her attire; she wore diamonds and silk, while I wore cotton and denim.
"Clara was an orphan," Lucian said, his voice dropping into a low, haunting register. "She was adopted from a private agency in Chicago when she was three years old. She never knew her biological family."
My breath hitched in my throat. My hands trembled around Leo's small frame.
"I... I was raised in foster care in Chicago," I whispered, my mind racing through long-buried memories of dusty social worker files and empty group homes. "I was placed at the St. Jude Children's Home when I was an infant."
May you like
Lucian's dark eyes sharpened like fresh steel. "Then tomorrow, my personal physician will run a DNA comparison using Clara's preserved medical files. But I don't need a lab test to tell me the truth, Elina."
He leaned closer, his dark gaze locking onto mine. "You aren't just a coincidence. You are her twin."
