“THE MAFIA BOSS WATCHED ME LIMP ACROSS HIS ENGAGEMENT DINNER CARRYING AN ENORMOUS ARRANGEMENT OF WHITE ROSES—THEN HIS FIANCÉE SAID, ‘SHE FELL IN THE FLOWER COOLER,’ BEFORE HE EVEN ASKED WHY I COULDN’T WALK PROPERLY.” / Chapter 9 / 15

Chapter 9 - The Mechanic’s Final ConfessionAt 8:00 AM, the morning sun rose over Chicago in a blaze of pale sapphire and brilliant gold.

Inside the grand library of the Moretti estate, the fire was still burning warmly in the limestone hearth.

I had fallen asleep on the velvet chaise lounge, wrapped in the cashmere blanket, my injured leg resting comfortably on the soft pillows.

When I opened my eyes, the morning light was streaming through the floor-to-ceiling French doors, illuminating the ancient oak bookshelves and the crystal chandeliers overhead.

Sitting in the leather armchair beside my couch was Luca.

He had showered and changed into an open-collared navy dress shirt and tailored charcoal slacks. He looked refreshed, powerful, and breathtakingly handsome, holding a fresh mug of dark roast coffee in his hands.

On the low table between us sat a small silver tray bearing two warm croissants, a bowl of fresh blackberries, and a small glass jar of clover honey.

When he saw me stir, a soft, radiant smile curved his lips.

“Good morning, Natalie,” he murmured, his deep baritone rumbling pleasantly in the quiet room.

“Good morning, Luca,” I whispered, sitting up carefully, smoothing my tangled hair with my fingers. “Did you get any sleep?”

“A couple of hours,” he replied, setting his coffee down and sliding the breakfast tray closer to my hands. “Eat something. You lost a lot of energy yesterday.”

I took a bite of the warm croissant, tasting the rich butter and sweet honey, feeling the tension that had gripped my body for weeks finally melting away into pure, peaceful warmth.

“How is Mrs. Vance?” I asked.

“She’s resting in the east wing,” Luca said. “Daniel is driving her down to Gary this afternoon to begin making arrangements for Julian’s service. She asked if you would come with her.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “Of course I will. I’d be honored.”

Luca reached into his pocket and produced a small, leather-bound portfolio bearing the embossed golden seal of the State of Illinois.

He laid it gently on my lap.

“What is this, Luca?” I asked, looking down at the parchment.

“The deed to the residential property on 28th Street,” Luca explained softly. “A three-story Victorian brownstone overlooking Douglas Park, four blocks from your brother’s automotive shop. Fully renovated, fully furnished, with the property taxes paid in advance for the next twenty years.”

My breath caught in my throat. I stared at the legal documents, my hands trembling against the paper.

“Luca... no... I can't take this,” I stammered, looking up into his soulful gray eyes. “A house? That's worth hundreds of thousands of dollars!”

“Your brother needs a safe, permanent home close to his business, Natalie,” Luca said, his voice thick with deep, unyielding sincerity. “And you risked your life, your livelihood, and your safety to tell the truth in a house full of armed killers. In my world, that kind of loyalty cannot be bought with money. But it can be honored.”