Chapter 3 - Shadows Over Manhattan
The penthouse on top of the Sovereign Tower was less like an apartment and more like an elevated fortress.
Over the next four days, as my physical strength slowly returned, I began to understand the sheer scale of Elias Vance’s empire. The building had private elevators accessible only by biometric security, armed men stationed at every stairwell, and a state-of-the-art surveillance system that monitored every corner of the surrounding block.
Yet, despite the dangerous men carrying submachine guns under their dark suits in the hallways, the interior of the penthouse was remarkably quiet.
My daughters—whom I had named Lily and Rose—were thriving. Under the care of Dr. Chen and the private nurses Elias had hired, their skin had regained a healthy, golden glow. They slept peacefully in a beautifully decorated nursery adjacent to my room, surrounded by plush toys, soft cotton clothes, and handmade wooden cradles that Elias had ordered to be delivered.
I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of the grand living room, holding Lily against my shoulder. The sun was setting over Manhattan, painting the sky in deep shades of purple and burnt orange.
"You shouldn't be standing so close to the glass," a quiet voice spoke from behind me.
I turned to see Elias walking into the living room. He had taken off his necktie, the top two buttons of his dark shirt unbuttoned, looking slightly tired but immaculately composed.
"The glass is bulletproof, Mr. Vance," I said softly, offering a faint smile. "Frank told me yesterday."
"Frank talks too much," Elias replied smoothly, walking over to stand a few feet away from me. He looked down at Lily, who opened her tiny, dark eyes and let out a soft sound. A rare, subtle softness softened his harsh features. "How are you feeling, Ava?"
"Better," I admitted, looking down at my baby. "The doctor said my stitches are healing well. I... I don't know how to thank you, Elias. You’ve given us a palace when we had nothing."
"You don't need to thank me," he said, reaching out a long finger. Lily immediately reached up with her tiny hand and curled her small fingers tightly around his thumb. Elias stilled, looking down at the tiny baby holding his hand with a strange, solemn expression. "They are strong little girls."
"Marcus thought they were weak," I murmured, a shadow falling over my heart. "He thought daughters were a burden."
"Marcus is an idiot who thinks masculinity is defined by what's between a child's legs," Elias said coldly, his eyes lifting to meet mine. "Strength is born from survival. These girls survived a night that would have killed grown men. They are stronger than Marcus will ever be."
Before I could answer, a loud buzz echoed from the private elevator foyer.
Frank stepped quickly into the living room, his face dark with urgency. Behind him walked two men in tailored grey suits—men who carried an air of cold, calculated authority that differed from Elias’s brutal elegance.
"Boss," Frank said quietly. "We have a problem. The Commission wants a meeting."
Elias didn't look surprised. He slowly disengaged his thumb from Lily’s tiny grip and stepped back, his expression returning to that unyielding stone mask.
"The Commission?" I asked, looking between Elias and Frank. "Who are they?"
"The five families that control the organized crime territories in New York," Elias explained calmly, turning to face his men. "Marcus Miller belongs to the Moretti crime family's sub-faction in Queens. He went to his Don."
"He told Don Moretti that you stole his wife and daughters to humiliate his family," the chief enforcer, Frank, added, looking at me with a grim expression. "Moretti is using this as an excuse to demand a territory concession on the Brooklyn docks. He's calling for a formal sit-down tonight."
My heart dropped into my stomach. The terror that had faded over the past few days returned with a vengeance.
"This is my fault," I gasped, clutching Lily tighter to my chest. "He's using us to start a war with you! Elias, please... you don't have to fight for us. You've done more than enough. If I leave—"
"Quiet, Ava," Elias commanded, his voice soft but carrying an edge of cold steel that instantly silenced me. He took two steps toward me, his dark eyes locking onto mine with absolute certainty. "Look at me."
I looked up, tears blurring my vision.
"You are not leaving this building," Elias said firmly. "You think if you walk out that door, Marcus will forgive you? He will kill you and throw those babies into the river to hide his shame. He stripped you of your dignity and threw you in the snow. I don't give back what I take in, and I certainly don't surrender human lives to dogs."
"But a war..."
"Moretti wants a war because he thinks I've grown soft," Elias said, a dark, terrifying smirk forming on his face. "He thinks sitting in a penthouse makes a man forget how to bleed. He’s mistaken."
He turned to Frank. "Tell Moretti I accept the sit-down. Tonight at midnight. At the neutral ground in Little Italy."
"Boss, it's a trap," Frank warned quickly. "Moretti will bring his top enforcers. Marcus will be there too."
"I count on it," Elias said coolly. He turned back to look at me, reaching out to gently touch my cheek with the back of his fingers. His touch was surprisingly warm against my chilled skin. "Stay here with your daughters, Ava. Lock the doors behind me."
"Elias..." I whispered, my voice trembling with fear for him. "Be careful. Marcus... he has no honor. He will do anything to win."
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Elias leaned down slightly, his dark eyes burning with an ancient, terrifying fire.
"Honor is for gentlemen, Ava," Elias whispered against my ear. "I am a monster to men like your husband. And tonight, I am going to remind Marcus Miller why my name is spoken in whispers."
