Chapter 2 - Waking Up in a Different World
When I jolted awake, the harsh fluorescent lights of the cabin were still humming, but the atmosphere around us had shifted into something terrifyingly surreal.
My cheek was pressed firmly against the black cashmere of the stranger's shoulder. I jerked back instantly, my face flushing with mortification. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"
"It's fine," he said quietly.
I looked down. Incredibly, Sophie was still sleeping soundly, curled up safely against his chest, cradled in his strong, steady arms as if she belonged there.
Then I looked up into the aisle, and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing in a rigid semicircle around our row were three nervous flight attendants, flanked by two enormous men in dark, tailored suits with earpieces glowing in the dim light. Their expressions were stone-cold, and every passenger within five rows was pretending to look intensely out their windows.
"Mr. Callahan," one of the flight attendants said carefully, her voice trembling slightly as she addressed the stranger beside me. "Your security detail has been notified. They’ll meet you on the private tarmac at O'Hare. We've cleared the exit path for you."
My blood ran instantly cold.
Callahan.
The name echoed in my brain like a gunshot.
I knew that name. Everyone in the Midwest knew that name. It was whispered in late-night news broadcasts, printed in bold headlines across financial journals, and tossed around in terrified murmurs by politicians, union bosses, and nightclub owners. Ethan Callahan wasn't just a wealthy businessman. He was the reputed head of Chicago’s most powerful, untouchable syndicate. The King of Chicago.
And my six-month-old daughter was sleeping soundly in his arms.
Panic surged through my veins like liquid nitrogen. I tried to pull Sophie back, my hands shaking violently. "Please—give her back to me. Please."
Ethan didn't flinch. He looked down at the baby, then up at me, his gaze softening just a fraction. "Relax, Rachel. I'm not going to drop her."
"You... you know my name?" I stammered, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
"I read your luggage tag when you were fighting with the overhead bin," he said smoothly. He turned his head toward one of the massive men in the dark suits. "Have my private jet fueled and prepped the moment we touch down."
"Yes, boss," the bodyguard rumbled.
My stomach plummeted into an absolute bottomless pit. "Jet? Wait, what? No, I have to catch a commercial connection to my sister's place, I have my stroller—"
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Ethan gently, expertly transferred a still-sleeping Sophie back into my arms, supporting her head with effortless skill. Then he looked directly into my eyes, and the sheer intensity of his gaze could have leveled a building.
"You're not taking a commercial connection," Ethan said, his voice dropping into an undeniable command. "She and the baby are coming with me."
