Chapter 3 - The Fortress on the Lake
The black armored SUV moved silently through the rain-slicked streets of downtown Chicago, flanked by two identical sedans.
Inside the back seat, Lydia sat stiffly against the soft leather, wrapping her thin server's jacket around her shoulders. Beside her, Vincent Romano sat in complete silence, staring out the tinted window as the city lights blurred into long streaks of gold and red.
The blood-stained ledger rested on his knee, his calloused fingers lightly resting on its leather cover as if he were holding a fragile bird.
"Where are you taking me?" Lydia finally asked, breaking the long, heavy silence.
Vincent didn't turn his head. "To my home. The estate in Lake Forest."
"I have a life," Lydia said, her voice small but firm. "I have a shift tomorrow at a diner. I have rent due on Tuesday."
Vincent turned his head slowly, his dark eyes fixed on her. "Your life as a waitress ended the moment you spoke Silas Vance's name in that room. Falcone’s men were monitoring L’Etoile. By now, they know a girl wearing Isabella’s necklace delivered the ledger to me. If you step foot back in your apartment, you will be dead before you can unlock the door."
Lydia swallowed hard, the harsh reality of her situation setting in. She had known the risks when she put on the necklace that evening, but facing the actual consequences was a different kind of terror.
"Why did you wait two years?" Vincent asked suddenly, his tone curious rather than aggressive. "If Isabella gave you the ledger two years ago, why come to me tonight?"
Lydia looked down at her lap, her fingers tracing the seam of her apron. "Because she made me promise. She said if I went to you immediately, the man who shot her would find out and kill you before you could read it. She said Silas controlled your security. She told me to wait until October 14th of two years later—until the two-year anniversary of her 'accident'—because on that night, you would be at L’Etoile alone, without your full security detail, and Silas would be relaxed, thinking he had completely gotten away with it."
A faint, bitter smile touched Vincent’s lips. "Isabella," he whispered softly. "Always three steps ahead of everyone in the room."
"She was terrified," Lydia added quietly. "She was dying in that diner booth, covered in blood, but she didn't care about her pain. She only cared about stopping the man who was poisoning your life."
Vincent’s chest rose and fell in a heavy, shuddering breath. He reached out, his long fingers gently picking up the blue sapphire pendant resting against her collarbone. He looked at it closely under the interior car light.
"You said there's a key inside this?" he asked.
"There's a tiny release latch behind the main setting," Lydia explained, reaching up to point at the back of the platinum casing. "Press the top diamond and turn the frame clockwise."
Vincent followed her instructions. With a faint, metallic click, the back of the heavy sapphire casing popped open, revealing a miniature, strangely shaped brass key no larger than a fingernail, tucked safely inside a hollowed-out compartment.
Vincent took the key, holding it up to the light. "A safety deposit box key for First National Bank."
"Box 408," Lydia said. "She told me the rest of the evidence is inside—the actual bank statements, the taped phone calls between Silas and Falcone, and the original deed to the North Side distribution hubs."
The SUV slowed down, making a sharp turn through massive, wrought-iron security gates that opened automatically into a dense, heavily wooded estate. High stone walls topped with security cameras surrounded the property.
The vehicle pulled up to the front steps of a massive, dark limestone mansion overlooking the misty expanse of Lake Michigan.
"Welcome to the Rossi estate," Vincent said, opening his door. "You’ll be safe here."
"I don't belong here, Mr. Romano," Lydia said quietly as she stepped out into the chilly night air.
May you like
Vincent paused on the stone steps, turning to look down at her. The rain had softened to a light mist, catching in his dark hair.
"You carry my wife's final gift, Lydia," Vincent said softly. "As long as you are under my roof, you are untouchable."
