Chapter 1 - Help. Please.
When I woke, my cheek was pressed against freezing marble.
For several seconds, I could not understand why the chandelier above me looked sideways.
Then the pain returned.
My thigh burned.
My wrist throbbed.
My head felt strangely heavy.
And beneath all of it was the single thought that mattered.
The baby.
My hand moved automatically to my stomach.
Six months.
Twenty-four weeks.
The small life inside me had become the only reason I still measured time.
There.
A faint movement.
Then another.
I almost sobbed from relief.
“Look,” Nora said from somewhere behind me. “She’s awake again.”
Her phone remained pointed toward me.
Recording.
Of course.
Victor stood over me holding Raul’s polished wooden cane.
My husband looked irritated rather than frightened, as though my collapsing had inconvenienced breakfast.
Helena reclined in the dining chair with one ankle crossed elegantly over the other.
“Maybe she finally understands,” she said.
Victor crouched.
His fingers tangled in my hair.
“You really thought someone was coming?”
I tasted blood.
Didn’t answer.
Because someone was.
At least, I prayed he was.
Seconds before Victor destroyed my phone, I had opened a contact hidden beneath an ordinary name.
No surname.
No photograph.
Just one initial.
M.
I had typed:
Help. Please.
Nothing else.
No address.
No explanation.
He wouldn’t need either.
Victor lifted the cane again.
Then tires screamed outside.
One vehicle.
Then another.
Then several.
The laughter stopped.
Nora lowered her phone.
Victor slowly turned toward the windows.
Black SUVs filled the circular driveway.
Men in dark suits stepped into the snow.
Not rushing.
They didn’t need to.
Helena stood.
“What is this?”
Raul did not answer.
His face had changed completely.
The smug, wealthy patriarch disappeared.
In his place stood an old man who had just seen a ghost.
A single knock struck the front door.
Heavy enough to make Nora flinch.
Victor looked at his father.
“Who the hell is that?”
Raul stared at my shattered phone near the wall.
Then at me.
“You messaged him?”
I smiled.
Weakly.
That frightened him more.
The front doors opened.
Three men entered first.
Then the fourth.
Tall.
Silver at the temples.
Black overcoat.
No visible weapon.
He didn’t need one.
Every person in the room went silent.
Victor’s grip loosened around the cane.
Helena whispered:
“No.”
The man looked at me on the floor.
Something dangerous entered his eyes.
Then he looked at Victor.
Raul stepped forward too quickly.
“Matteo, this is a family misunderstanding.”
Matteo DeLuca.
The name Victor’s family had spent years pretending not to fear.
The man newspapers called a logistics billionaire.
The man federal investigators called difficult to prosecute.
The man Chicago’s criminal world called something else entirely.
My godfather.
He walked past Raul as though he were furniture.
Then knelt beside me.
“Elena.”
My throat closed.
“I’m sorry.”
His expression hardened.
“For what?”
“For calling.”
That was the saddest thing I could have said.
He removed his coat and placed it over me.
Then he looked toward the cane in Victor’s hand.
“Who did that?”
Nobody spoke.
Nora’s phone was still recording.
Matteo noticed.
He held out his hand.
“Give me the phone.”
Nora backed away.
“No.”
That was a mistake.
One of Matteo’s men moved.
Nora immediately surrendered it.
Matteo watched ten seconds of her recording.
Then another ten.
His face became unreadable.
Victor tried recovering his arrogance.
“You can’t walk into my house and—”
Matteo looked up.
“Your house?”
Victor stopped.
Matteo slowly stood.
“That is interesting.”
He glanced at Raul.
“Did you never tell him?”
Raul’s mouth went dry.
Victor frowned.
“Tell me what?”
Matteo handed Nora’s phone to one of his men.
“Preserve every file.”
Then he looked at me again.
“Hospital first.”
Victor stepped forward.
“She’s my wife.”
Matteo’s gaze shifted.
“No.”
The word came quietly.
“She’s your victim.”
Victor’s face reddened.
He reached toward me.
Matteo’s men moved instantly.
Victor stopped.
Then Matteo said something that made Raul grab the back of a chair.
“Elena, before we leave, there is one thing you need to know.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
His eyes moved toward Helena.
Then Victor.
“The DeLucas have feared something for twenty-six years.”
Raul whispered:
“Don’t.”
Matteo ignored him.
He touched my shoulder gently.
“We feared what would happen if you ever remembered who you really are.”
I stared at him.
“I know who I am.”
Matteo’s expression said otherwise.
Then he looked at Victor.
May you like
“And so does his father.”
Raul went completely pale.
