Chapter 8 - The Golden Cage
Six months later, the Lake Forest estate didn't smell like bleach and isolation anymore.
The heavy velvet drapes that had kept the sunlight out of the main floor for two years had been replaced with sheer white linen that fluttered in the warm May breeze. The gardens outside were blooming with white roses and purple lavender, tended to by a new crew of workers who didn't jump every time a car door slammed in the driveway.
I sat in my study, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows.
My legs were still useless—that reality hadn't changed, and the doctors confirmed it never would. But the phantom pain didn't control me anymore. When the ache started in the dead of night, I didn't reach for the bottle of narcotics. I picked up a book, or I called Luke to go over the ledger reports for our legitimate real estate holdings in the Loop.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Come in," I said.
Emma walked in carrying a silver tray with a pot of fresh black coffee and two cups. She wore a tailored grey trousers suit now—simple, elegant, professional. Her hair was pulled back into a neat knot, the dark circles beneath her eyes completely gone, replaced by a healthy, radiant glow.
She set the tray down on my desk, pouring a cup for me and one for herself.
"The meeting with the shipping port authorities is set for three o'clock," she said, pulling a leather binder from under her arm. "Luke checked the perimeter. Salvatore’s old crew hasn't made a move in sixty days. The city is quiet."
"The city is obedient," I corrected gently, taking a sip of the hot coffee. "There's a difference."
She sat in the armchair across from my desk—the same chair where physical therapists used to sit and tremble while I shouted at them. She looked completely at home.
"Your father called the house main line this morning," she added casually, looking up from her notes.
My hand paused over my cup. "My father died ten years ago."
"Your biological father," she clarified softly. "The one living in Arizona. He saw your name in the business section regarding the new logistics merger. He wanted to know if you were receiving his letters."
"Tell the gate staff to burn any mail coming from Phoenix," I said coldly. "He left my mother when I was seven. He doesn't get to check in because I own three piers on the lake."
Emma didn't argue. She simply made a small mark in her notebook. "Consider it burned."
She leaned back in the chair, studying me over the rim of her coffee cup. "You look rested today, Danny."
It was the first time she had called me Danny during the day. Usually, she kept it professional in front of the staff, reserving my first name for the late-night hours when we sat on the terrace listening to the radio.
"I slept five hours," I admitted. "That's a record."
"No nightmares?"
"None," I said, looking at her. "The house is quiet."
Before she could reply, Luke burst into the study without knocking. His suit jacket was unbuttoned, his face dark with sweat despite the air conditioning.
"Danny," Luke said, his voice clipped. "We have a problem at the front gate."
May you like
I set my cup down immediately. "Salvatore’s people?"
"No," Luke said, looking nervously at Emma before turning his eyes back to me. "It's the Federal Bureau of Investigation. They have a RICO indictment with your name on it, signed by a federal judge thirty minutes ago. They’ve got six sedans parked outside the fence."
