Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Chicago
Nora stared at Damon in utter confusion, her fingers still tangled in Apollo’s thick fur. "What... what are you talking about?"
Damon reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a small black leather book, and placed it on the coffee table beside her.
"Three years ago, when you vanished from the Vance family estate in the middle of the night, Julian Moretti put a five-million-dollar bounty on your head," Damon explained, his tone smooth, measured, and entirely lacking aggression. "He claimed you stole corporate secrets. In reality, you were fleeing a violent man who treated you like property."
Nora’s eyes widened. "How do you know that?"
"Because I bought your dog," Damon revealed, crossing his arms. "I knew Julian would kill the animal out of spite when he couldn't find you. I sent my men to secure the dog from your estate before Moretti’s hitmen burned the house down."
Nora gasped, clutching Apollo tighter. "You saved him?"
"I don't save things out of charity, Nora," Damon replied, his dark eyes locking onto hers with intense focus. "I acquired him because I knew that if you were still alive, one day, somewhere in this city, you would come looking for the only thing you left behind."
"I searched for you for three years," Damon continued, stepping closer. "Not to hurt you, and not to turn you over to Moretti. But because three years ago, your father transferred forty percent of the Vance Shipping shares to your name before he died. Shares I needed to complete my takeover of the Chicago harbor."
Nora let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. "So it's just business. You wanted my signatures."
"It was business," Damon corrected gently. "Until your seven-year-old daughter walked into my courtyard today and called my enforcer by his real name."
Just then, the side door of the study opened quietly. Clara walked in, holding a silver bowl filled with vanilla ice cream, accompanied by Salvo, who looked thoroughly embarrassed to be on babysitting duty.
"Mommy!" Clara cheered, running over and throwing her arms around Nora’s neck. "Look! The nice man gave me ice cream!"
Nora hugged her daughter tightly, hiding her face in Clara’s hair. "Clara, baby, are you okay?"
"I'm super okay!" Clara smiled, looking over at Damon. "The tall Mister said I can play with Apollo whenever I want."
Damon looked at Clara, then looked back at Nora. His analytical mind, which was capable of calculating complex financial algorithms in seconds, was running through a timeline.
Three years ago... Clara was four years old when Nora vanished.
Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Clara’s features—the delicate nose, the emerald-green eyes, and the slight, subtle chin structure that looked hauntingly familiar.
"Salvo," Damon said quietly.
"Yes, Don Damon?"
"Take Clara down to the conservatory. Have the kitchen prepare dinner for her."
"No!" Nora said defensively, standing up and pulling Clara behind her. "We are leaving. I don't want your money, Mr. Castellano, and I don't care about the Vance Shipping shares. Just let us go."
Damon stepped into her path, his tall, imposing frame completely blocking the exit. He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer weight of his authority made the room feel smaller.
"You aren't leaving, Nora," Damon said firmly. "Julian Moretti’s men spotted your catering van parked outside my gate an hour ago. The moment you step off my property, you will be snatched off the street before you reach the highway."
Nora’s face drained of all color. Her knees buckled slightly, but Damon reached out, his warm, strong hand catching her by the elbow, steadying her.
"You are safe inside this house," Damon whispered, his thumb lightly brushing against her sleeve. "No one touches what belongs in my perimeter."
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"We don't belong to you," Nora whispered back, her breath hitching at his proximity.
"Not yet," Damon said, his eyes darkening with a promise that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "But starting tonight, you and your daughter live here."
