Chapter 3 - The Midnight Vow
The rain was falling in solid, silver sheets as the heavy armored Mercedes sedan pulled up to the rear entrance of the Cook County Courthouse.
Samantha sat in the leather passenger seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She had changed out of her pink uniform into the only decent clothes she owned—a simple, dark green wool dress she had bought for her mother's funeral, paired with a worn beige trench coat. She felt incredibly small in the vast, silent interior of the luxury car.
Vincent sat beside her, his long legs crossed, his eyes fixed on a thick stack of papers his driver, a quiet, massive man named Marco, had handed him when they entered the vehicle.
"The prenuptial agreement is standard," Vincent said, his pen hovering over the signature line. "It has been modified to include the custody protection clause for Lily. If anyone—including your aunt—attempts to challenge your custody while you are married to me, they will be fighting the entire Moretti legal defense fund. My attorneys have already drafted a notice of appearance. They will be standing beside you in court at nine o'clock."
He turned the page and offered her the pen.
"Read it, Samantha," he said. "I don't sign contracts with people who don't know what they're agreeing to."
With trembling fingers, Samantha took the heavy gold pen. She scanned the elegant legal print.
...the party of the second part, Samantha Hayes, shall receive the full protection, financial support, and residential rights of the Moretti estate... under the condition of absolute marital loyalty and non-disclosure...
She saw the numbers—the fifty-thousand-dollar monthly allowance, the five-million-dollar trust. It looked like a fairy tale, but the cold, heavy weight of the man sitting beside her reminded her that this was a business transaction in the shadow of the Chicago underworld.
"I don't have anything to protect," Samantha said, her voice dry. "The only asset I have is my sister."
"That is the only asset I care about protecting tonight," Vincent replied.
She signed her name. Samantha Hayes.
Vincent took the pen back and added his own signature in a bold, fluid stroke. Vincent Moretti.
The courthouse was dark, the grand marble corridors silent except for the echoing sound of their footsteps. Marco walked behind them, his hand resting near his jacket pocket, his eyes scanning the empty corners of the building.
They were led into a small, oak-paneled room where an elderly man in a dark suit was waiting. Judge Miller was a longtime associate of the Moretti family—a man who had signed search warrants, bail agreements, and private contracts for Vincent's father before him. He did not look surprised to see the city's most feared billionaire standing beside a pale, tired diner waitress at two o'clock in the morning.
"Vincent," the judge said, nodding. "The papers are ready."
"Let's make it quick, Thomas," Vincent said, standing beside Samantha. He did not touch her hand, but his physical presence was a solid, warm wall against her side.
The ceremony was short, stripped of any romance or sentiment. The judge read the standard vows from a small black book, his voice dry and professional.
"Do you, Vincent Moretti, take this woman..."
"I do," Vincent said, his voice firm and absolute.
"Do you, Samantha Hayes, take this man..."
Samantha looked at the gold ring Vincent was holding—a simple, elegant band he had taken from his own safe before they left his office. It was too large for her ring finger, but as he slipped it on, the cold metal felt like a shield.
"I do," she whispered.
"By the power vested in me by the State of Illinois, I now pronounce you husband and wife," Judge Miller said, stamping the marriage certificate with a heavy steel embosser. "Congratulations, Vincent. Mrs. Moretti."
The words felt foreign, heavy, and slightly terrifying.
Mrs. Moretti.
As they walked back to the car, Vincent stopped under the concrete canopy, looking out at the dark, wet street. He turned to her, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a damp lock of auburn hair behind her ear. His fingers were warm, his touch surprisingly gentle.
"You should go home and get some sleep, Samantha," he said. "The car will pick you and Lily up at eight-thirty. My attorneys will meet you at the courthouse. I will be there shortly after."
"You... you're not coming to the apartment?" she asked.
"I have some business to settle before the morning," Vincent said, his eyes darkening as he looked toward the neon-lit skyline of the city. "Your aunt's attorney is a man named Richard Vance. He has been taking payments from a rival organization of mine to facilitate this custody suit. They wanted to use your sister to get to you, and through you, to the land your grandfather's trust owns near the docks."
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Samantha's heart stopped. "Agnes... she's working with your enemies?"
"She doesn't know she is," Vincent said, his smile cold and razor-sharp. "But she is. And by nine o'clock tomorrow, I am going to make sure Richard Vance is no longer licensed to practice law in the state of Illinois."
