Chapter 3 - The Fortress on Lake Shore
The rain started falling over Chicago’s Gold Coast the moment Alexander’s armored Maybach pulled away from the restaurant’s private garage.
Emily sat pressed against the leather passenger door, her hands clutched in her lap. She was still missing her left heel. The skirt of her emerald evening dress was torn at the seam, and her makeup was ruined by dried tears. Every shadow on the street made her flinch.
Alexander sat opposite her, his long legs crossed, looking over a tablet. He gave her space. He didn’t stare, didn’t demand explanations, and didn’t touch her. Yet his presence filled the entire vehicle like an impenetrable shield.
“Where are we going?” Emily asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
Alexander didn't look up immediately. “Somewhere he cannot touch you.”
“Derek has connections,” Emily said, the anxiety bubbling up in her chest. “Judges, private investigators, dirty cops. When he realizes I’m really gone, he won’t stop. He’ll report my car stolen. He’ll cancel my cards. He’ll tell everyone I’ve had a nervous breakdown.”
Alexander finally set his tablet down. His icy blue eyes locked onto hers with absolute certainty. “Derek Carter owns a mid-tier investment firm and a few corrupt city inspectors. He is an insect, Emily. And insects do not survive inside my house.”
Fifteen minutes later, the heavy iron gates of a massive stone estate on Lake Shore Drive slid open. High limestone walls topped with discreet security cameras surrounded the property. Guards in black suits nodded with disciplined respect as the car drove up the winding driveway.
When the car stopped, Alexander opened his door, stepped out, and walked around to Emily’s side. He didn't wait for her to struggle on her one remaining heel. Before she could protest, he scooped her up into his arms, carrying her as easily as if she weighed nothing.
“I can walk,” she gasped, her face flushing crimson as she instinctively grabbed his broad shoulder for balance.
“You have glass in your foot from the corridor,” Alexander said simply, his voice low near her ear. “Save your energy for healing.”
He carried her through massive double oak doors into a breathtaking foyer of black marble and warm chandeliers. An elderly woman in an elegant gray dress met them at the base of the grand staircase.
“Elena,” Alexander said, not breaking stride. “Prepare the east wing suite. Have Dr. Chen come through the private entrance immediately. And call the boutique on Oak Street—I want a full wardrobe delivered by dawn.”
“Right away, Mr. Moretti,” Elena said, her warm, maternal eyes lingering on Emily with deep empathy.
Alexander carried Emily up the sweeping stairs and into a bedroom larger than her entire previous apartment. A fire was already crackling in the hearth. He set her down gently onto a plush velvet sofa, taking a step back the moment she was settled to give her space.
“Dr. Chen is on my personal payroll,” Alexander explained, undoing his cufflinks and rolling up his sleeves. “He will treat your wrist and your foot. You will sleep. Tomorrow, we dismantle your husband.”
Emily looked around the opulent room, then back at Alexander. Tears pricked her eyes—not of fear, but of sheer exhaustion.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice cracking. “You don’t even know me. Men like you don’t help people for free.”
Alexander stopped near the door. He looked back at her, his jaw tight with an old, dangerous grief.
May you like
“A monster who strikes an unarmed woman in the dark does not deserve to breathe the same air as her,” Alexander said quietly. “Rest, Emily. Tonight, you are safe.”
---
