Chapter 8 - Shadows on Michigan Avenue
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Two weeks had passed since the night of the ruined engagement, and a new, peaceful routine had settled over the Moretti mansion.
Every morning, I helped Ethan review his spelling words before Marco drove him to St. Michael’s Academy.
Every afternoon, I met with the estate chefs to ensure that every single ingredient entering the pantry was certified nut-free.
And every evening, Luca returned home earlier from his downtown offices, joining Ethan and me for dinner.
The dangerous underworld don was gradually revealing a different side of himself—a patient father who helped with math homework and a man who remembered how I took my tea.
On a crisp Saturday morning, Luca walked into the sunroom where Ethan and I were assembling a massive Lego castle.
"Get your coat, Ethan," Luca announced, tossing a set of car keys in the air and catching them.
"Nora, grab your purse."
"Where are we going, Daddy?" Ethan asked, jumping up from the carpet.
"Your mother Margaret has her birthday next Tuesday," Luca said, looking directly at me.
"We are going to Michigan Avenue to find her a proper gift."
My eyes widened in surprise.
"Mr. Moretti, you don't need to do that!" I protested, standing up quickly.
"I was planning to buy her some soft slippers online."
"Online slippers are for strangers," Luca countered with an amused smirk.
"Margaret survived three surgeries and raised a daughter with steel in her spine."
"She deserves something from the finest boutiques in Chicago."
Thirty minutes later, we were cruising down Lake Shore Drive in Luca’s personal armored Bentley.
Instead of bringing a motorcade of armed guards, Luca had opted to drive himself, with Marco following two car lengths behind in an unmarked sedan.
Chicago looked magnificent in the autumn light, the towering skyscrapers reflecting off the deep blue waters of the lake.
We parked near the Magnificent Mile and spent an hour walking through high-end shops.
Luca bought my mother a stunning cashmere throw blanket and a delicate silver music box that played her favorite classical tune.
Ethan held my hand the entire time, pointing excitedly at window displays filled with early holiday decorations.
As we stepped out of a high-end department store onto the bustling sidewalk of Michigan Avenue, the hair on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end.
I paused, pulling Ethan slightly closer to my side.
"Nora? What is it?" Luca asked, stopping immediately and noticing my sudden tension.
I scanned the crowded sidewalk, letting my eyes flick past shoppers, tourists, and street vendors.
Across the four-lane avenue, parked illegally in a loading zone, sat a dark gray sedan with heavily tinted windows.
A man in a black baseball cap was sitting in the front passenger seat, holding a long-lens camera pointed directly at Ethan.
Beside him, another man was talking rapidly into a radio.
"Mr. Moretti," I whispered, keeping my voice completely level so Ethan wouldn't notice.
"Across the street. Gray sedan by the fire hydrant."
"They’ve been taking photos of Ethan since we left the shoe store."
Luca did not turn his head abruptly.
Instead, he subtly angled his body, shielding Ethan with his coat while catching the reflection in a storefront window.
His jaw hardened into steel.
"Good eye, Nora," Luca murmured calmly, reaching into his pocket and tapping a speed dial.
Across the street, I saw Marco’s unmarked sedan glide smoothly out of traffic, boxing the gray sedan against the curb before it could move.
Two heavily armed Moretti security guards stepped out of Marco’s car, their badges flashing as they approached the gray vehicle's windows.
"Bellini scouts," Luca deduced coldly, taking Ethan's hand and guiding us smoothly toward our parking garage.
"Silvio is keeping his word, but Vanessa has rogue loyalists who still want blood."
"Are they going to hurt us?" Ethan asked, picking up on the sudden shift in our pace.
"No, buddy," Luca said, lifting Ethan effortlessly into his arms and carrying him into the private garage elevator.
"Nobody is ever going to hurt you while I'm breathing."
As the elevator doors closed, Luca looked at me with deep admiration glowing in his dark eyes.
"Most people freeze when they sense danger," Luca noted quietly.
"You spotted an assassination spotter before my own perimeter guards did."
"When you spend your whole life being invisible, Mr. Moretti, you learn to watch everyone's hands," I answered honestly.
Luca stepped closer to me in the confined space of the elevator, his fingers lightly brushing against my knuckles.
"You're not invisible anymore, Nora," he whispered, his voice sending shivers down my spine.
"Not to me."
The elevator reached the underground parking level with a soft chime, breaking the spell between us.
We climbed into the armored Bentley, and Luca sped out of the garage, taking evasive routes through the city.
The drive back to the estate was silent and tense.
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The threat of Vanessa Bellini had not vanished across the ocean to Sicily as her father had promised.
The snake had merely slithered into the tall grass, waiting for the right moment to strike.
