Chapter 4 - He Took Me to the City I Had Run From
Chicago was the last place I wanted to go.
Which apparently made it the place everyone considered safest.
I argued for an hour.
Rafael ignored me.
Luca listened.
Then said:
“You can hate me in Chicago.”
I stared.
“That’s your argument?”
“Yes.”
“It’s terrible.”
“Still working.”
Unfortunately, it did.
We flew from a private airstrip that afternoon.
I had never been on a private jet.
I expected luxury.
I found men with guns, medical equipment, and Luca asleep under a blanket while Rafael spoke quietly into three phones.
Not glamorous.
Just expensive anxiety.
Chicago appeared beneath us after dark.
Lights stretching forever.
Luca woke before landing.
“You lived here?”
“No.”
“You look uncomfortable.”
“I dislike cities.”
“You worked Denver emergency medicine.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I hated Denver too.”
He smiled.
We landed.
A black car took us downtown.
Luca’s safe property was not his home.
It belonged to Rafael.
An entire floor of a building overlooking the river.
I stared at the skyline.
“This is ridiculous.”
Rafael frowned.
“The view?”
“The apartment.”
“It has security.”
“It has a piano nobody plays.”
Rafael looked mildly offended.
“I play.”
I turned.
“You?”
“Badly.”
Something about that relaxed me.
Normal details help when abnormal people surround you.
For two days, Luca recovered.
For two days, men arrived at strange hours.
Some entered the bedroom.
Some waited outside.
All looked shocked when they saw him alive.
Every single one called him Boss.
I began to understand the scale.
Luca did not simply have money.
He had gravity.
People oriented themselves around him.
But something else became clear.
He was losing.
Adrian had moved quickly.
Bank accounts locked.
Properties reassigned.
Captains pressured.
Stories planted.
The world now believed Luca stole from his own family and disappeared.
Adrian positioned himself as the betrayed younger brother cleaning up the mess.
Smart.
Cruel.
Effective.
One evening, I found Luca standing at the window without his cane.
“You’re supposed to use that.”
“I’m improving.”
“You’re limping.”
“Elegantly.”
“No.”
He looked at the city.
“My father built half of this.”
I joined him.
“Buildings?”
“Influence.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It was.”
I waited.
“My family owned restaurants when I was born.”
“And?”
“Then trucking companies.”
“And?”
“Then things that weren’t legal enough to register.”
I appreciated honesty.
“I took over at twenty-eight.”
“Why?”
“My father died.”
“Did you want it?”
He looked at me.
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Why stay?”
“My brother was twenty-one.”
There it was.
“I thought if I controlled the family, I could change it slowly.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
Pride entered his voice.
Not criminal pride.
Work.
“I shut down trafficking routes.”
I looked at him.
“People?”
“Weapons. Drugs. Anything involving children.”
“You draw moral lines inside a criminal empire.”
“I told you it was complicated.”
“I thought you were exaggerating.”
He laughed softly.
Then his expression changed.
“Adrian hated every closure.”
“Money.”
“Yes.”
“So he wanted the old business.”
“And my chair.”
“Maybe mostly your chair.”
Luca looked at me.
“You understand him quickly.”
“I was married to a man who cared more about control than love.”
His eyes hardened again.
I regretted mentioning it.
Then his phone rang.
Rafael.
Luca answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He ended the call.
“Adrian is holding a memorial.”
“For you?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
I blinked.
“He tried to kill you and now he’s planning your funeral?”
“Apparently.”
“That is aggressively rude.”
Luca stared.
Then laughed.
Really laughed.
It hurt his ribs.
He grabbed his side.
“That was your fault.”
“Worth it.”
His eyes stayed on me longer than necessary.
I looked away first.
The memorial would be at St. Catherine’s.
Family church.
Political donors.
Business partners.
People who needed to see Adrian in control.
Luca planned to appear.
I thought it was insane.
He thought it was necessary.
“You’ll get shot.”
“Not inside the church.”
“That confidence concerns me.”
“Adrian needs legitimacy.”
“So?”
“Killing me publicly destroys the story.”
“You think he cares?”
“He cares about power.”
I folded my arms.
“And what do you care about?”
Luca looked at me.
The answer took too long.
Then:
“Not dying.”
“Good start.”
The following afternoon, I stayed at Rafael’s apartment.
Officially.
Unofficially, I put on a dark coat and followed them.
I knew it was stupid.
I did it anyway.
St. Catherine’s was packed.
I entered through a side door.
A photograph of Luca stood near the altar.
Black ribbon.
Flowers.
His mother sat front row.
Elegant.
Stone-faced.
Adrian stood beside her.
He looked enough like Luca to make the relationship obvious.
Younger.
Lighter eyes.
Softer face.
The kind of face people trusted.
He stepped toward the microphone.
“My brother was not perfect.”
Interesting beginning.
“But he was family.”
Liar.
I saw Luca at the back of the church.
Alive.
Still.
Watching.
Adrian continued.
“I wish our last conversation had been different.”
Luca started walking.
One step.
Then another.
Someone noticed.
A gasp moved through the crowd.
Adrian stopped speaking.
His face emptied.
Luca reached the center aisle.
The entire church turned.
His mother stood.
“Luca?”
He looked at Adrian.
Not angry.
Almost calm.
Then said:
“You should’ve waited for a body.”
Silence.
Adrian’s hand tightened around the podium.
For one glorious second, absolute fear crossed his face.
Then something happened I did not expect.
Their mother stepped between them.
She looked at Luca.
May you like
And said:
“You should have stayed dead.”
