Chapter 3 - The Black SUV
The interior of the bulletproof Marchetti SUV was lined with dark leather, smelling faintly of expensive cedarwood, polished leather, and fresh baby powder. The air conditioning blew warm, dry air that immediately began to dry my wet clothes.
I sat in the middle captain’s chair, holding Evelyn securely on my lap. On either side of me, strapped into their high-end car seats, were Leo and Luca.
The moment I had climbed into the vehicle, the two little boys had reached across their seats, their tiny hands clutching at the fabric of my sweater. Leo was still holding the velvet rabbit I had picked up off the diner floor, pressing it against his cheek while staring at me with his wide hazel eyes.
Damian sat in the front passenger seat, his long legs stretched out, his dark eyes watching me through the rearview mirror. Marcus was driving, his hands steady on the leather steering wheel as he maneuvered the heavy vehicle through the rain-slicked city streets.
“They’ve never acted like this with anyone,” Damian spoke up suddenly, his voice breaking the heavy silence inside the cabin. “Not with the four private nannies I hired. Not with Julianna’s personal staff. They’ve spent the last six months crying almost constantly, refusing to sleep for more than two hours at a time.”
I looked into the mirror, meeting his gaze. “Because they knew. Children know their mother’s heart, Mr. Marchetti. They knew the woman holding them wasn't the one who carried them.”
A muscle twitched in Damian’s jaw. He turned his head slightly toward the window, watching the city lights blur past.
“Where are we going?” I asked, gently running my fingers through Luca’s dark, damp curls. The little boy let out a tiny sigh and closed his eyes, his breathing growing slow and steady for the first time in hours.
“To Saint Jude’s Memorial,” Damian said flatly. “Dr. Vance is currently the Chief of Surgery. He’s attending a private hospital board gala on the top floor tonight.”
A wave of intense anxiety surged through me. “He’s a powerful man in this city. He has security, police protection—”
“I don't care about his protection,” Damian interrupted, his voice dropping into a register that made the temperature in the car drop ten degrees. “Harold Vance took money from my family to commit a crime that desecrated my sister’s memory and destroyed your life. He is going to answer every question we have before the sun comes up.”
I looked down at Evelyn, who had fallen fast asleep against my collarbone, her tiny hand curled into a fist against my chest. The feeling of her warm, rhythmic breathing against my skin was a miracle I had prayed for every single night for fourteen long months.
I had spent over a year believing I was broken, that my body had failed my babies, that I was a tragic statistic. To realize that my grief was born from a cold, calculated crime performed by a man in a white coat made a dark, dangerous fire ignite deep within my soul.
Ten minutes later, the massive SUV pulled up into the underground VIP parking garage of Saint Jude’s Memorial Hospital.
Two other black Marchetti sedans pulled up behind us, instantly deploying eight more armed men who moved in tight formation around our vehicle.
Damian stepped out of the front seat, opening my door personally. He reached down, offering his hand to help me out. I looked at his massive, calloused hand, then up at his stone face. I took it. His grip was steady, warm, and unexpectedly protective.
“Marcus will stay in the car with two guards to watch the triplets,” Damian said, looking at the sleeping toddlers. “They’ll be safe here. The glass is reinforced steel-grade armor.”
I looked at Marcus, who gave me a firm, respectful nod. “On my life, Miss Lin. Nobody touches them.”
I took a deep breath, stepping out onto the cold concrete of the garage. I smoothed down my apron, wiped the dry tear tracks from my face, and stood beside Damian Marchetti.
He looked down at me, his gray eyes assessing my appearance. Without a word, he unbuttoned his custom wool trench coat, removed it from his broad shoulders, and draped it gently over my damp sweater. The coat was heavy, warm, and smelled faintly of dark cologne and rain.
“Let’s go find our doctor,” Damian said quietly.
We walked toward the private express elevator leading to the hospital’s executive penthouse floor. Four armed bodyguards moved ahead of us, their hands resting discreetly inside their dark jackets.
As the elevator doors closed and the indicator lights began to climb toward the top floor, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored wall.
May you like
Beside the most feared mob boss in the state stood a woman who had entered the diner six hours ago as a broken, hopeless maid. But the woman staring back at me now wasn't broken anymore.
She was a mother who had just found her children. And God help anyone who stood in her way.
