politico

Chapter 8 - The Morning After

When Adeline opened her eyes, the bright morning sunlight was streaming through a gap in the heavy velvet velvet curtains, casting a warm yellow beam across the room.

She was lying on a soft leather sofa in an adjoining study. Her head pounded with a dull, thumping ache—the classic signature of a mild sedative.

She sat up quickly, checking her clothes. Her scrub top was still on, but her pockets had been emptied. Her pen, her notepad, her medical scissors, and her mother's silver hair clip were gone.

She stood up on unsteady legs and walked into the dining room.

The mahogany table was empty. The bloodstains, the IV bags, the real-estate brochure with her handwritten notes, and the vials of blood had been completely scrubbed away. The room was immaculate, smelling faintly of lemon polish and bleach.

The man she had saved was gone.

Ten minutes later, a silent driver had picked her up at the edge of the estate's long driveway, driven her back to the city, and dropped her off two blocks from her apartment without speaking a single word.

She had never seen the man's face clearly in the dark room. She had only remembered his broad shoulders, his dark hair, and the terrifying, cold authority he radiated even while unconscious.

Until three days ago, when she had walked into the forty-first floor of the Raldi Meridian Building and recognized the exact shape of Cassian Raldi’s jawline.

Adeline sat up in her bed at the estate, her breath hitching in her throat as the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place.

Cassian hadn't just hired her because she was quiet and desperate.

He had brought her into his house because she was the only civilian in the state of Illinois who knew that six weeks ago, the untouchable mob boss of Chicago had almost died on a dining room table in Lake Forest.

She was a witness. A secret keeper.

And by marrying her, Cassian had placed her under his absolute control, wrapped in a legal contract that bound her tongue for thirty-six months.

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Adeline buried her face in her hands, a cold, bitter laugh escaping her lips.

"You arrogant, calculating bastard," she whispered to the dark room.

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