Chapter 6 - The Russo Threat
Three weeks passed in a peaceful, surreal bubble.
Adrian lived in my guest room, but he spent almost every evening on my couch. He cooked dinner every night, brought me fresh fruit every morning, and sat beside me during every home prenatal visit with Dr. Aris.
He learned how to assemble the crib. The mighty Adrian Moretti spent three hours on a Tuesday evening sitting on my rug, swearing under his breath at an IKEA instruction manual, refusing to let Marco help him until every screw was tightened perfectly.
For the first time in our relationship, we were actually talking. We talked about his childhood, my parents, our favorite books, and our hopes for the baby.
Then, on a rainy Thursday afternoon, the bubble popped.
I was walking back from a local bakery with a box of fresh cinnamon rolls, two bodyguards walking five paces behind me. As I reached the corner of my street, a dark blue Bentley pulled up to the curb, cutting off my path.
The back window rolled down.
Sitting inside was Sal Russo—a gaunt, grey-haired man with cold, sunken eyes, wearing a dark wool coat. Beside him sat his daughter, Vanessa, looking pale and fragile, wrapped in a blanket.
"Claire Bennett," Sal called out, his voice sounding like dry leaves scraping against pavement.
My bodyguards immediately stepped forward, reaching inside their jackets, standing between me and the car. "Back off, Mr. Russo!"
Sal ignored them, looking directly at my stomach beneath my coat. "A pretty thing. No wonder Adrian abandoned my daughter's business deal for you."
"Sal," Vanessa whispered from the back seat, her voice weak. "Don't do this..."
"Shut up, Vanessa!" Sal barked, before turning his gaze back to me. "Tell your ex-husband that the harbor contract is officially revoked. The Russo family is taking the docks on Monday. And if he tries to fight us... tell him I know which nursery windows face the street."
A surge of pure, icy fury rushed through my veins. The instinct to protect my child burned away every trace of fear I had ever possessed.
I stepped past my bodyguards, walking straight up to Sal's open window, leaning down so my face was inches from his.
"Listen to me very carefully, old man," I said, my voice dropping into a chilling, unwavering tone that shocked even my own guards. "If you so much as mention my child or my windows again, I won't let Adrian handle you. I will personally take every financial ledger, every offshore asset document, and every money-laundering paper I archived during my three years as Moretti Capital's lead analyst, and I will hand them directly to the Southern District Federal Prosecutors."
Sal's face went dead white.
"I know where every dollar of your money is buried, Sal," I continued, smiling coldly. "Try me. And see if you spend your remaining years in a luxury villa or a federal penitentiary."
I turned on my heel and walked up the brownstone steps without looking back once.
When I opened the apartment door, Adrian was standing in the foyer, holding a glass of water, having just watched the entire interaction from the front window.
He looked at me in absolute, speechless awe.
"You..." Adrian stuttered, setting the glass down on the console table with a hand that actually shook. "You just threatened the head of the Russo syndicate with federal indictment?"
"He threatened my nursery," I said, setting the box of cinnamon rolls on the counter. "I don't play games, Adrian."
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Adrian stared at me for three long seconds. Then, he let out a loud, triumphant roar of laughter, grabbed me by the waist, spun me around in the hallway, and pulled me into a fierce, passionate kiss that left us both completely breathless.
"God," he growled against my lips, his gray eyes blazing with wild, unadulterated adoration. "I married a queen."
