""He Locked Me In For Two Years, But When I Escaped Into A Mob Boss's Penthouse, Everything Changed"

The one-way mirror in Matteo's private office gave me a crystal-clear view of the penthouse foyer and living room. Behind the glass, I stood clutching my arms, my heart slamming against my ribs as the private elevator doors chimed and slid open.

It wasn't Derek who stepped out. It was his lead fixer, Marcus Vance—a slick, middle-aged attorney in an Italian trench coat, flanked by two private security guards carrying bulky leather briefcases.

Matteo didn't stand to greet them. He remained seated behind his broad oak desk in the living area, fingers laced casually over his stomach. Two of Matteo's men, massive and silent with concealed handguns beneath their tailored blazers, flanked the doorway like marble statues.

""Mr. Conti,"" Marcus Vance began, maintaining a polished courtroom smile that didn't reach his eyes. ""Thank you for granting us five minutes. I represent Derek Hale and the Hale Trust.""

""You have four minutes left,"" Matteo replied without an ounce of warmth. ""Speak quickly.""

Marcus cleared his throat, adjusting his silk tie. ""We have reason to believe that a young woman named Clara Voss is currently trespassing on your property. Miss Voss has a documented history of emotional volatility. Mr. Hale is profoundly concerned for her safety, particularly given her self-inflicted wounds yesterday morning. We have come to escort her to a private medical facility in Evanston where she can receive proper psychiatric care.""

Behind the glass, my fingernails dug into my palms until the cuts reopened. Psychiatric care. He wanted me sedated. He wanted me locked behind institutional doors where nobody could hear me scream.

""You brought two armed thugs to collect an emotionally volatile woman?"" Matteo asked coldly.

""Precautionary measures, Mr. Conti. To ensure nobody gets hurt."" Marcus placed a thick manila folder on the edge of the desk. ""In exchange for your discretion, Mr. Hale is prepared to sign over the commercial zoning permits your family has been disputing along the riverfront corridor. Consider it a token of neighborly goodwill. Give us the girl, and the city council approves your logistics hub by Friday.""

Matteo leaned forward slowly. The room seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant.

""Are you finished?"" Matteo asked.

Marcus blinked, the confidence in his posture beginning to fray around the edges. ""Excuse me?""

""You walked into my private residence, offered me a bribe paid in city council favors, and called a battered woman a lunatic to my face."" Matteo stood up, towering over the attorney. The two private guards behind Marcus shifted uncomfortably, their hands instinctively twitching toward their coats.

Before they could react, Matteo’s men stepped forward. In two blindingly fast motions, the guards were pinned against the polished marble, their firearms disarmed and tossed aside with metallic clatters.

""Tell Derek Hale three things,"" Matteo commanded, leaning into Marcus's terrified face. ""First, the girl does not belong to him. Second, if his investigators come within a mile of Lincoln Park, Lakeview, or River North, they will disappear into the shipping yards. And third..."" Matteo picked up the manila folder and dropped it into a silver wastebasket, followed by the strike of a match. ""...tell him I look forward to taking his zoning permits anyway. Along with everything else he owns.""

Marcus scrambled backward toward the elevator, pale as fresh snow, leaving his disarmed guards to stumble out after him.