Chapter 3 - THE SCARS OF THE HARBOR
-3
The private medical suite on the fourth floor of the Marchetti estate smelled of antiseptic and old books. It was a room designed for emergencies that couldn't be taken to public hospitals—bullet extractions, knife wounds, and the quiet patching up of men who lived outside the law.
Adeline sat on the edge of the leather examination table, still wrapped in Enzo’s heavy wool coat. Her arms were stretched out while an elderly, weary-looking doctor named Dr. Vance gently dabbed iodine over the angry red welts left by Camilla’s riding crop.
Adeline didn't flinch. She had felt physical pain far worse than a few leather stripes across her skin. Growing up on the South Side docks of Chicago, pain was just another currency you paid to survive the winter.
Standing by the window, watching the rain begin to streak against the reinforced glass, was Enzo. He hadn't spoken since they left the corridor. He had dismissed the guards, dismissed the panicked whispers of the remaining staff, and personally escorted her up the private elevator himself.
“You’re lucky the skin didn't break entirely,” Dr. Vance muttered, applying a strip of sterile gauze and securing it with medical tape. “A few more inches to the left, and you’d have permanent nerve damage in your right forearm. Apply the ointment twice a day. No heavy lifting for a week.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Adeline said quietly.
Dr. Vance packed his silver instruments into his black leather case, nodded respectfully to Enzo, and slipped out of the room, closing the heavy oak door behind him with a soft click.
The room grew so quiet that the ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner sounded like heavy hammers falling against stone.
Enzo turned away from the window. He walked slowly toward the examination table, stopping a few feet away. Up close, his presence was overwhelming—not just because of his physical size, but because of the terrifying gravity that seemed to pull everything in the room toward him.
“You knew who Thomas was,” Enzo stated. It wasn't a question.
Adeline looked down at her lap, her fingers tracing the edge of his jacket cuff where it swallowed her hands. “I knew he worked for the state treasurer's office. And I knew he spent twenty minutes talking to a man named Viktor Vance outside the service pantry three nights ago.”
Enzo’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Viktor Vance? My primary rival in the North Side dock distribution syndicate?”
“The same,” Adeline replied, her voice steady. “Viktor has been trying to break your monopoly on the grain and steel shipments for six months. When he couldn't get to you through your corporate holdings or your security details, he decided to strike at your wedding. Eliminating Senator Ashford’s daughter at your own engagement gala would have triggered a federal task force raid on your properties within forty-eight hours. The ensuing chaos would have allowed Viktor to seize the docks while your legal team was fighting off murder and conspiracy charges.”
The room went dead silent again. Enzo stared at her—really stared at her—for a long, agonizing moment. The analytical machinery behind his dark eyes was spinning at a terrifying speed, processing every word, every inflection, and every hidden layer of information she had just casually dropped.
“You’re twenty-four years old,” Enzo said slowly, his voice dropping an octave. “You applied for an entry-level domestic position through an agency in the Loop. Your resume listed three years working as a housekeeper for a retired schoolteacher in Evanston.”
Adeline gave a dry, humorless smile. It didn't reach her eyes. “My resume also listed a fake Social Security number and a high school diploma from a district that burned down in 2018. If your HR department had run a real background check instead of just rubber-stamping my application because Mrs. Higgins needed an extra pair of hands for the gala, you would have found out I didn't exist.”
Enzo didn't reach for his gun. He didn't summon his guards. Instead, a slow, dangerous smile curved the corners of his mouth—a smile that looked entirely lethal.
May you like
“And why,” Enzo asked, stepping closer until he was standing directly over her, “did a ghost with fake credentials risk her life to save a woman who was treating her like an animal?”
Adeline looked up, her stormy gray eyes locking onto his without a single flicker of fear. “I didn't save Camilla Ashford, Mr. Marchetti. I saved the city from burning. And...” She paused, her jaw tightening. “...I had a score to settle with the man who handed Thomas the capsule.”
