Chapter 6 - A Father’s Promise
Alessandro became terrifyingly calm.
“How?”
Marco shook his head.
“We’re checking.”
I stood.
“What happens now?”
“You leave Chicago.”
“No.”
Alessandro turned.
“This isn’t negotiable.”
I almost laughed.
“You were doing so well.”
“Elizabeth.”
“No.”
“Sloane has nothing left to lose.”
“Then running makes me easier to isolate.”
Marco nodded reluctantly.
“She’s right.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The side where everybody survives.”
Liam entered.
“Good side.”
Alessandro ignored him.
I stepped closer.
“Sloane wants us frightened.”
“He wants leverage.”
“Then don’t give him any.”
His eyes dropped toward my stomach.
“You are my leverage.”
“No.”
I took his hand.
“We are your family.”
His expression shifted.
I continued.
“There’s a difference.”
The next forty-eight hours changed everything.
Federal protection increased.
Sloane’s accounts were frozen.
His associates began cooperating.
Matteo provided enough evidence to connect Sloane to my parents’ deaths.
But the biggest surprise came from Alessandro.
He called a board meeting.
I wasn’t there, but Marco later told me exactly what happened.
Alessandro walked into Vitali headquarters and placed a folder on the table.
His uncle asked, “What is this?”
Alessandro answered:
“The end.”
“The end of what?”
“The business our family should have left behind twenty years ago.”
Several men protested.
Alessandro let them finish.
Then he said:
“We keep the legitimate companies. Real estate. Hotels. Construction. Everything else ends.”
“You’ll destroy your grandfather’s legacy.”
“No.”
Alessandro stood.
“I’m deciding what my child inherits.”
Nobody argued after that.
Two months later, Victor Sloane accepted a deal that ensured he would spend decades behind bars.
Matteo testified.
The investigation spread through Chicago.
For the first time since I was twenty-one, I walked into a courthouse using my real name.
Elizabeth Mercer.
Alessandro waited outside afterward.
No convoy.
No intimidating entourage.
Just him.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I think so.”
“You were incredible.”
“I answered questions.”
“You answered them while Sloane stared at you.”
“I noticed.”
“I wanted to—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
He smiled.
“Yes, ma’am.”
My pregnancy had begun to show.
Alessandro glanced down.
“Can I?”
“You ask every time.”
“I’m going to keep asking.”
I took his hand and placed it on my stomach.
Almost immediately, the baby kicked.
Alessandro froze.
“What was that?”
I laughed.
“Your child.”
“That felt aggressive.”
“Vitali genetics.”
He stared at me.
“Mercer genetics.”
“Better answer.”
He crouched slightly.
“Hello.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“That’s your speech?”
“I wasn’t prepared.”
“You’ve had months.”
“For organized crime? Prepared. Corporate negotiations? Prepared. This?”
Another kick.
His eyes widened.
I started laughing.
Then he smiled.
Not Alessandro Vitali, mafia heir.
Just Alessandro.
That evening, he drove me somewhere without explaining where.
We stopped in front of a small brick house.
A porch light glowed above the door.
I stared at it.
“What is this?”
He handed me a key.
“The house my father bought for yours.”
“You kept it?”
“It belongs to you.”
I looked through the windshield.
The windows had been repaired.
Fresh flowers sat beside the steps.
“You did this?”
“Liam helped.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Because you told me something the first night we met.”
“What?”
“You said you missed knowing someone would leave a porch light on.”
My throat tightened.
Alessandro looked toward the house.
“So I thought…”
For once, he seemed nervous.
“I thought we could leave one on.”
“We?”
“If you want.”
I stared at him.
“Are you asking to move in with me?”
“I’m doing this badly.”
“Extremely.”
He reached into his coat.
My eyes widened.
“Alessandro.”
“Relax.”
He produced another key.
Not a ring.
I laughed.
He held it out.
“My key.”
“You already have one?”
“No. I wanted you to decide whether I get one.”
That meant more to me than a diamond ever could.
I closed his fingers around the key.
“Yes.”
His eyes searched mine.
“Yes?”
“You get a key.”
He kissed me.
Then I whispered against his lips:
“But you’re fixing the leaking faucet.”
He smiled.
May you like
“Deal.”
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