Chapter 3 - The Woman at the Center of the Storm
Dominic did not raise his voice.
That was what frightened Sophie most.
The bodyguard stood at attention near the open door, rainwater darkening the shoulders of his black coat.
“The Carusos were following us?” Dominic asked.
“Yes.”
“How many cars?”
“Two. One peeled off near Michigan Avenue. The other has been circling the block.”
“And the restaurant?”
“Covered. Front, rear, and alley.”
Dominic’s eyes moved toward Sophie.
She still held Matteo, who slept against her shoulder with the deep, uneven breaths of an exhausted newborn.
For the first time, Sophie understood why everyone in Bellavita had been terrified.
This was not just a wealthy businessman with bodyguards.
This was Dominic Moretti.
A name people said quietly.
A man with enemies who watched his infant son.
Sophie stood carefully.
“I should go.”
Dominic’s gaze hardened.
“No.”
She blinked.
“No?”
“You cannot leave.”
“I absolutely can.”
“The Carusos saw you approach my table. They saw you take Matteo.”
“That doesn’t make me part of this.”
“It makes you visible.”
Sophie’s grip tightened around the baby.
She hated that he was right.
Outside, a flash of lightning lit the window. For an instant, she saw the reflection of a black sedan idling across the street.
Her stomach tightened.
“I have an apartment,” she said. “A job. I have a life.”
“You had a life,” Dominic said, too bluntly. “Now you have a problem.”
Sophie’s eyes flashed.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
For several seconds, neither of them moved.
Then Dominic glanced at Matteo.
His son stirred.
Dominic’s expression shifted.
Not softer.
But restrained.
“You’re right,” he said. “I don’t get to decide. But I can make sure you survive the night.”
Sophie wanted to argue.
She wanted to hand Matteo back, walk through the restaurant, and return to the tiny apartment where nobody knew her name.
But the black sedan remained outside.
And somewhere in Chicago, strangers had decided she mattered enough to watch.
She looked down at Matteo.
Then back at Dominic.
“One night,” she said. “Until I know what’s happening.”
Dominic nodded.
“One night.”
The Moretti penthouse occupied the top two floors of a building overlooking Lake Michigan.
Sophie had seen luxury before. She worked in a restaurant where billionaires ordered wine that cost more than her monthly rent.
But this was something else.
The elevator opened directly into a marble foyer. Tall windows framed the stormy city. Original paintings hung on dark walls. Every surface gleamed.
Yet the penthouse did not feel like a home.
It felt like a fortress.
Security cameras tracked every hallway. Two armed guards stood near the elevators. Another checked Sophie’s bag with clinical efficiency.
Dominic watched from several feet away.
“She’s not a threat,” he said.
The guard looked uncomfortable.
“Protocol, boss.”
Sophie handed over her purse.
“Let him look,” she said. “I have lip balm, a wallet, and approximately fourteen dollars in tips.”
When the guard found a small photograph tucked behind her phone case, he paused.
It showed Sophie holding Leo in a hospital room.
Her breath caught.
“Give that back.”
The guard immediately handed it over.
Dominic saw the picture.
His expression changed again, but he said nothing.
A woman in navy scrubs hurried from the hallway.
She was perhaps fifty, with silver hair pulled into a tight bun and the exhausted eyes of someone who had not slept.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said. “Matteo woke twice after you left. I tried the formula, but he wouldn’t take it.”
“This is Rosa,” Dominic told Sophie. “She’s Matteo’s night nurse.”
Rosa looked at Sophie with suspicion.
“So you’re the waitress.”
“Sophie.”
“You got him to sleep?”
“Yes.”
Rosa glanced toward the baby.
“He has been crying every evening for a week.”
“Has his formula changed?” Sophie asked.
Rosa frowned. “No.”
“Has his bottle changed?”
“No.”
“Any new medication? Drops? Supplements?”
Rosa hesitated.
“His pediatrician recommended a probiotic three days ago.”
Sophie’s eyes narrowed.
“Can I see it?”
Rosa retrieved a small bottle from the nursery.
Sophie read the label.
Then she checked the dosage instructions.
Her stomach turned.
“This is for infants over six months.”
Matteo was barely three weeks old.
Rosa’s face drained of color.
“The doctor’s office sent it.”
“Did they?” Sophie asked.
Dominic stood beside her now.
His voice dropped.
“Explain.”
“This could be upsetting his stomach,” Sophie said. “It might not be the only reason he’s crying, but it should not be given to a newborn without a pediatrician confirming it.”
Dominic took the bottle.
The plastic crumpled slightly in his grip.
“Call Dr. Bennett,” he told Rosa.
“It’s after midnight.”
“Call.”
Rosa rushed away.
Sophie looked at Dominic.
“Do not threaten the doctor until you know what happened.”
His eyes flickered.
“I wasn’t going to threaten him.”
She gave him a look.
Dominic almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Matteo made a small distressed sound.
Sophie stepped toward the nursery automatically.
The room was beautiful—too beautiful. Cream walls. A hand-painted ceiling. An antique rocking horse that could not possibly be safe for a child.
But in the center stood a modern crib with a tiny boy inside.
Sophie leaned over him.
“Hey, little man.”
Matteo’s eyes opened.
Dark eyes.
His father’s eyes.
She lifted him, held him upright, and began the quiet rhythm again.
Behind her, Dominic remained in the doorway.
“You lost your son,” he said.
Sophie did not turn around.
“Yes.”
“How did you keep living?”
The question was so raw that it stopped her.
She looked at Matteo’s tiny ear near her cheek.
“I didn’t,” she said honestly. “Not at first.”
Dominic said nothing.
“Then one day,” Sophie continued, “I realized Leo would not have wanted me to disappear with him.”
Her voice broke.
“So I learned how to wake up. I learned how to go to work. I learned how to breathe without feeling guilty.”
Matteo’s breathing calmed.
Dominic watched her.
“What if I can’t do this?” he asked.
Sophie finally looked at him.
“You can. But not alone.”
Before he could answer, Rosa returned with her phone pressed to her ear.
Her expression was terrified.
“Mr. Moretti,” she said, “Dr. Bennett says he never prescribed those drops.”
Dominic’s face went still.
“Who did?”
Rosa swallowed.
“The pharmacy records say the prescription was called in under his office credentials.”
Sophie felt cold.
Someone had tampered with Matteo’s medication.
Someone knew where Dominic’s son lived.
May you like
And someone had been willing to make a newborn suffer to get close to the most dangerous man in Chicago.
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