Chapter 3 - The Cold Night in Michigan Avenue
Back in the penthouse overlooking Michigan Avenue, the world was burning down around Luca Ferretti’s ears.
I knew the room without having to see it. I knew the exact shade of the Italian leather couches, the sound of the heavy crystal decanters clinking against the bar, and the violent cadence of Luca’s footsteps whenever his absolute control slipped through his fingers. For four years, I had learned to read those signs to survive. Now, watching through a secure closed-circuit surveillance feed on Alessandro’s laptop, I watched my husband unravel from three miles away.
The feed was crystal clear, tapped directly into the penthouse's security cameras by Alessandro's technicians. Luca was pacing back and forth across the Persian rug, his tuxedo jacket discarded on the floor, his white shirt stained with sweat and a faint smudge of Caterina’s red lipstick. Three of his capos stood near the grand fireplace, their heads lowered like dogs waiting for a beating.
""Find her!"" Luca roared, his voice distorting the small laptop speakers. ""I don't care if you have to tear down every bridge over the river! I don't care if you have to kick in every door in Cook County! Bring my wife back to this room!""
""Boss,"" one of his men, a scarred veteran named Mateo, spoke up cautiously. ""The police are already at the hotel. Miss Bardi was taken to Northwestern Memorial under armed guard. The guests are talking. Senator Vane canceled his meeting for tomorrow morning. He says he can't be seen with you until this... domestic dispute settles down.""
Luca grabbed a heavy crystal glass from the side table and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the marble mantelpiece, sending shards of glass raining down onto the hearth.
""It is not a domestic dispute!"" Luca snarled, grabbing Mateo by the lapels of his coat and pulling him close enough that their foreheads almost touched. ""Clara Russo knows nothing! She is a frightened, broken girl whose father left her with nothing but debts! She doesn't have the brains or the courage to walk away from me on her own! Someone took her! Someone is playing a game with my name, and if you don't find out who it is within two hours, I will personally throw you into the lake!""
Watching his face on the screen, a strange sensation bloomed in my chest. For years, I had believed Luca was an invincible force of nature, a giant whose shadow dictated whether I was allowed to smile or weep. But seeing him now, stripped of his composure, screaming at his men like a petulant child whose favorite toy had been snatched away, the illusion vanished completely.
He wasn't a king. He was just a small, brutal man who ruled through terror because he possessed nothing of real substance inside himself.
""He's terrified,"" I whispered to Alessandro, who stood silently behind my chair.
""Of course he is,"" Alessandro said, resting his hand lightly on the edge of the desk. ""Luca's entire empire is built on borrowed capital and perceived strength. The syndicates in New York and Kansas City tolerated him because they believed he had the Russo assets locked down. Tonight, you showed them that his own household is out of control. In this business, a man who cannot control his wife cannot be trusted to control the territory.""
The screen flickered as the front door of the penthouse opened. A woman stepped into the frame, her posture rigid, her face pale. It was Caterina Bardi, wrapped in an oversized trench coat, flanked by two of Luca’s low-level guards. She looked exhausted, but her eyes held a sharp, focused intensity that had certainly not been there when she walked into the ballroom hours earlier.
Luca dropped Mateo and stormed toward Caterina, grabbing her roughly by the chin. ""What happened to you? What did she say to you before you passed out?""
Caterina pulled back slightly, her voice shaking with calculated terror. ""She... she gave me the ring, Luca. And then she told me that the clock was already ticking for you.""
Luca froze, his eyes widening. ""What clock? What did she mean?""
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""She said your time was up,"" Caterina lied smoothly, reciting the precise lines Alessandro had fed her through an earpiece hours before the gala. ""She said the Moretti family had come to collect the principal on the debt.""
Watching Luca's face drain of every drop of color through that glowing screen was the sweetest retribution I had ever tasted. The mighty Don of Chicago suddenly looked like a condemned man hearing the gallows trapdoor creak beneath his boots.
