Chapter 2 - The Shadow of Oak Park
The vestry was warm, heated by a small stone fireplace that flickered softly against dark wood paneling. Dr. Mercer had laid Claire out on a wide velvet sofa, stripping away her wet coat and boots, wrapping her in thick wool blankets. An IV bag hung from a coat rack, dripping fluids into her arm.
Adrian rushed to her side, sinking onto his knees beside the sofa. He reached out, his big, calloused hand carefully wrapping around hers. Her skin was freezing, her pulse still racing erratically.
“How is she?” Adrian asked, his voice raw, looking up at Mercer.
“Her blood pressure is dangerously high—preeclampsia,” Mercer explained quietly, adjusting the monitor attached to her finger. “The stress, the rain, the physical exertion... she pushed her body way past its absolute limit to get here. If we don't keep her heart rate down, she could suffer a stroke, or go into premature labor.”
“Fix it,” Adrian ordered, his eyes never leaving Claire’s pale face. “Use whatever you need. Bring specialists from the university hospital if you have to. Secure the entire wing.”
“I’m already administering medication to lower her pressure,” Mercer said reassuringly. “She needs quiet, Adrian. Absolute quiet.”
Claire’s eyes fluttered open, dark and glossy with exhaustion. She looked at him, her fingers feebly tightening around his hand.
“Adrian...” she breathed.
“I’m here, carina,” he whispered, bringing her knuckles to his lips, kissing them repeatedly. “I’m right here. You’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you.”
“The wine...”
“It’s handled,” Adrian promised, a cold shadow passing over his face before he softened it again for her. “You saved my life, Claire. You saved me.”
Tears welled in her dark eyes, slipping down her cheeks. “I didn't... I didn't want to come back. I promised myself I’d stay away. For the baby. To keep him safe from your world.”
Adrian felt a sharp, agonizing knot tighten in his throat. His gaze drifted down to her stomach, covered by the heavy blanket. He raised his hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second, terrified that he was dreaming, before gently laying his palm against the curve of her belly.
The moment his hand touched her, he felt a distinct, solid kick against his palm.
Adrian froze. The man who had faced down federal prosecutors, executioners, and rival warlords without blinking suddenly felt tears burn at the back of his eyes.
“He’s... he’s ours?” Adrian asked, his voice barely audible.
Claire nodded slowly, a wet, sad smile touching her lips. “Seven months. He’s been kicking for three weeks now. He... he doesn't like loud noises. Just like his father.”
Adrian buried his face in the edge of the sofa near her hip, his shoulders shaking slightly as he let out a jagged breath he felt like he’d been holding for seven agonizing months.
“Why did you leave?” he murmured into the fabric, looking up at her with desperate, aching eyes. “Claire, why did you run from me? I tore this city apart looking for you. I thought you were dead. I almost destroyed everything because I thought someone took you from me.”
Claire closed her eyes, a heavy sigh shuddering through her chest. “Eight months ago... after we spent that weekend at the lake cabin... I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified, Adrian. But I was happy. I was going to tell you that Thursday at the diner.”
“What stopped you?”
“Your mother,” Claire whispered.
Adrian’s body went rigid. “Nicoletta?”
“She came to Bennett’s Kitchen four days before I disappeared,” Claire said, her memory drifting back to that cold, terrifying afternoon in Oak Park. “She didn't bring guards. She came alone. She sat in booth six, drank a cup of black coffee, and put a file on the table.”
Adrian’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth clicked.
“What was in the file?”
“Photos,” Claire said, fresh tears spilling over her lashes. “Photos of my parents’ diner. Photos of my little brother at his high school in Michigan. Photos of me at the grocery store. She told me that a man in your position couldn't afford a distraction. She said the Moretti alliance was the only thing that would stop an all-out gang war that would kill hundreds of people in Chicago.”
She squeezed his hand, her breathing ragged. “She told me... she told me that if I stayed, if I brought a illegitimate child into your life, the Morettis would use us to destroy you. She said if I loved you, I had to die to your world. She gave me fifty thousand dollars in cash, a bus ticket to Iowa, and told me that if I ever tried to contact you, she would make sure Bennett’s Kitchen burned with my parents inside it.”
Adrian sat in stunned, murderous silence.
His own mother. The matriarch of the Romano family, who had spent the last seven months comforting him, holding his hand while he grieved Claire’s disappearance, telling him to fulfill his duty to the family by marrying Bianca Moretti to bring peace to the city.
She had orchestrated Claire’s exile. She had threatened the woman he loved and the child growing inside her.
“I went to Iowa,” Claire continued, her voice growing weaker as the medication began to take hold of her exhausted body. “I rented a small house in the countryside. I tried to forget you, Adrian. I really did. I told myself it was better for the baby to grow up without blood on his father’s hands.”
“Then how did you find out about the wedding?” Adrian asked softly.
“Two days ago... I had a doctor’s appointment,” she said, her eyelids growing heavy. “A man... a man watched me leave the clinic. He dropped an envelope in my purse. Inside was a invitation to your wedding at St. Matthew’s... and a typed note saying the wine at the altar was poisoned by the Morettis. It said if I wanted to save your life, I had to be here at noon.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed instantly. Someone else was manipulating the board. Someone who knew Claire was alive, knew where she was hiding in Iowa, knew about the poisoned wine, and had used her love for Adrian to crash the wedding at the exact moment necessary to explode the Moretti alliance.
“Sleep now, carina,” Adrian whispered, kissing her forehead as her eyes finally closed under the heavy weight of the sedatives Dr. Mercer had administered. “You’re safe now. I swear on my life, no one will ever touch you or our son again.”
He stood up slowly, stepping away from the sofa. The gentle warmth in his eyes hardened into an icy, absolute fury as he walked out of the vestry and into the main corridor of the cathedral.
Marco was waiting for him, his suit jacket stained with blood from the altar execution.
“It’s done, Boss,” Marco said quietly. “Don Leo and Matteo are gone. The Moretti family is in complete chaos right now.”
“Find my mother,” Adrian commanded, his voice dropping into a tone that chilled Marco to the bone. “Bring her to the estate in Lake Forest. Do not let her leave her room. Do not let her touch a phone.”
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“And the person who sent Claire the note in Iowa?” Marco asked. “Who knew she was alive?”
Adrian reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black smartphone. “Check the security footage around St. Matthew’s from thirty minutes ago. Find out who watched her enter the church. Someone played us all, Marco. My mother, the Morettis, and me. And I’m going to tear them apart piece by piece.”
