Chapter 3 - THE GILDED CAGE
The armored convoy tore through the snowstorm at eighty miles per hour, tires biting into the iced asphalt of Lake Shore Drive. Emily sat wedged between the twins in the plush leather interior of the modified Maybach, her hands trembling so violently she had to clench them into fists.
Outside, the glittering towers of downtown Chicago gave way to the secluded, heavily forested bluffs of Lake Forest. The convoy swept through towering wrought-iron gates guarded by armed sentries with German Shepherds, climbing a winding private road to a fortress-like stone mansion overlooking the black abyss of Lake Michigan.
Inside the grand foyer, marble floors and crystal chandeliers clashed with the scent of gun oil and tension.
“Take the girls to the medical wing immediately,” Dominic ordered his staff as housekeepers and private physicians rushed forward.
“No!” Grace shrieked, burying her face into Emily’s chest. “We want Emily!”
Dr. Marcus, an elderly physician with nervous hands, attempted to take Grace’s pulse, but the little girl kicked frantically, her fever spiking as she began to hyperventilate.
“Her core temperature dropped too fast earlier,” Emily spoke up, her nursing training overriding her fear. “She’s going into post-hypothermic shock. If you force an IV right now without warming her peripheral vessels, her heart will fibrillate.”
Dr. Marcus looked at Emily in shock. “How do you know that?”
“Second-year nursing at UIC before I had to drop out,” Emily answered crisply. She knelt before Grace, stroking her hair. “Gracie, look at me. Remember the warm soup? We’re going to take slow, deep breaths together. In for four seconds, out for four. Let the doctor listen to your chest, and I won’t leave your side.”
Grace’s breathing gradually stabilized. Within twenty minutes, both girls were resting under heated thermal blankets in a secure second-floor suite, their vitals steady.
Emily stood by the door, exhausted to the bone, when a heavy hand rested on her shoulder.
She turned to find Dominic standing behind her. He had shed his heavy overcoat. In his crisp white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to reveal dark tribal tattoos across his forearms, he looked even more intimidating up close.
“My study. Now,” Dominic said quietly.
Emily followed him down a mahogany-paneled hallway into an expansive library lined with hundreds of leather-bound books and high-tech security monitors. Dominic poured two fingers of amber bourbon into a crystal glass and set it on the desk before sitting down behind it.
“You saved my daughters’ lives, Miss Parker,” he began, his voice deep and smooth. “Few people would have taken two strange children into a diner on a zero-degree night. Fewer still would have lied to armed men to protect them.”
“I did what any decent human being would do,” Emily replied, refusing to sit. “Now, please call me a cab. I need to get back to my apartment.”
Dominic smiled, but there was no warmth in it. He tapped a tablet on his desk.
“At 12:15 AM, forty minutes after we left Miller’s Corner, a tactical hit squad entered your three-story apartment building on West 18th Street. They kicked your door off its hinges, ransacked your room, and set the entire floor on fire.”
Emily’s breath caught. “What?”
“Viktor Volkov—the head of the Bratva syndicate on the East Coast—knows who hid my children,” Dominic continued, his eyes chillingly steady. “He knows your name, your face, and your social security number. If you walk out those gates tonight, you won’t survive until sunrise.”
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Emily felt the room spinning. “I don’t belong in your world! I’m just a waitress!”
“Not anymore,” Dominic said, leaning forward. “As of tonight, Miss Parker, you are under my personal protection. But in my world, nothing is free. You will remain here as my daughters’ private guardian. And to ensure the syndicate thinks you are untouchable, tomorrow morning, Chicago will announce that you are my fiancée.”
