Chapter 3 - The Man Beneath the Bridge
The man beneath the bridge was Luca Moretti.
Lorenzo’s cousin.
His oldest rival.
And, according to every rumor I had ever heard in the estate, the one person Lorenzo trusted least.
Luca wore a black wool coat over a dark suit, his silver hair slicked back from his forehead. He looked nothing like Lorenzo except for the eyes—sharp, dark, and impossible to read.
Two armed men stood behind him near the boat.
I tightened my grip on Lorenzo.
“Get behind me,” I whispered.
Lorenzo almost laughed.
“Bell,” he said weakly, “that would be very brave and very useless.”
“I don’t care.”
Luca studied me with open amusement.
“This is the maid?” he asked.
“The one who brought him back,” Lorenzo replied.
Luca’s smile faded.
“You’re alive because of her?”
Lorenzo did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Luca stepped closer, stopping several feet away. “I received a message that you were dead.”
“You received it quickly.”
“Chicago is efficient when blood is involved.”
“Who sent you?”
“Dante.”
My stomach dropped.
Lorenzo’s face became unreadable.
“Dante told you to meet me here?”
“He said if you survived, you would use the river tunnel.”
“So Dante knew I was alive.”
Luca’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
“You did not know?” I asked.
Luca looked at me, then at Lorenzo.
“No,” he said. “I thought this was a trap.”
The river wind cut through my thin uniform. Lorenzo swayed beside me.
Luca saw it.
“If he stays out here, he will die,” he said.
“You want him dead,” Lorenzo replied.
“I have wanted you dead many times,” Luca said. “But I would never poison you and let strangers divide our family’s name.”
That sounded almost honorable.
Almost.
Lorenzo lowered his voice. “What do you want?”
“The same thing you do. The person who arranged this.”
A gunshot cracked through the air.
Luca’s bodyguard dropped instantly.
I screamed and fell behind a concrete pillar, dragging Lorenzo down with me. More shots hit the bridge supports, spraying stone across the ground.
“Sniper!” Luca shouted.
His remaining guard fired toward the rooftop across the river.
Lorenzo pressed one hand against his side. Blood seeped through his scrubs.
“We need to move,” I said.
“No,” he replied. “You need to move.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“Bell.”
Another shot struck the ground near us.
Luca crouched behind a parked truck, shouting instructions into his phone. “Boat is compromised! Take the north exit!”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“There is a maintenance door behind you.”
I saw it.
A rusted steel door half-hidden beneath the bridge.
“What about Luca?”
“Not our problem.”
“He came to help.”
“He came because he wants something.”
“Everyone wants something from you.”
Lorenzo’s eyes met mine.
“And what do you want?”
The question startled me.
I had not thought about it.
For three years, I had wanted simple things. A safe apartment for my mother. Enough money to pay my father’s debts. A chance to return to nursing school. A life where I did not have to apologize for being poor, quiet, or afraid.
But at that moment, with bullets cutting through the dawn and Lorenzo bleeding beside me, I knew what I wanted.
“I want you alive,” I said.
His expression changed.
Then he nodded once.
“Then get me through that door.”
We reached the maintenance passage while Luca and his men returned fire. Inside was another maze of tunnels, but this one led beneath the riverwalk and into an abandoned warehouse district.
Lorenzo could barely walk now.
I helped him through the darkness, one step at a time.
Finally, we found shelter in an empty storage building with broken windows and dust-covered crates. I locked the door behind us, pulled an old tarp across the windows, and laid Lorenzo down on a stack of blankets.
His skin was cold again.
“No,” I whispered. “Not again.”
He reached for my hand.
“Listen to me.”
“You need help.”
“You need to leave Chicago.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“They know you helped me.”
“They already tried to poison me.”
“Exactly.”
I shook my head.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked.
The question made my throat tighten.
Because you protected me.
Because you remembered my name.
Because when everyone else treated me like I was invisible, you told me I mattered.
But I could not say all of that.
So I only whispered, “Because I’m not invisible to you.”
Lorenzo stared at me.
Then he closed his eyes.
For one awful moment, I thought he had passed out.
But he said quietly, “You never were.”
A phone rang in his pocket.
I pulled it out.
The screen showed one name.
Dante Voss.
Lorenzo opened his eyes.
“Answer it.”
“What?”
“Put it on speaker.”
My hands shook as I accepted the call.
Dante’s voice came through.
“Lorenzo?”
I looked at Lorenzo.
He nodded.
“Yes,” he said weakly.
Silence filled the line.
Then Dante exhaled.
“You’re alive.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I sound relieved.”
“Where are you?”
“That depends,” Lorenzo said, “on whether you’re the man who tried to kill me.”
Dante was quiet for too long.
Then he said, “If I wanted you dead, boss, I would not have sent Luca to the river.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“You sent Luca?”
“I knew the doctors were lying. I knew Caldwell was involved. But I couldn’t reach you without exposing myself.”
“Why not?”
“Because the traitor is inside the estate. And he is closer to you than either of us thought.”
Lorenzo looked at me.
“What did you find?” he asked.
Dante answered with one sentence.
“The person who ordered the ambush has been sitting at your family table for twenty years.”
May you like
Then the line went dead.
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