Chapter 3 - Into the Lion's Den
Clara screamed, covering her ears as the SUV roared to life. The tires screeched against the wet asphalt, throwing her sideways. Before she could fall, a strong, firm hand gripped her waist, pulling her securely onto the leather seat.
"Keep your head down!" Victor commanded, his voice tight.
He shielded her body with his own as the SUV sped through the city streets. Behind them, the sound of gunfire faded as Victor’s security team handled the shooters. Clara’s mind raced in sheer panic. Her thoughts went instantly to Lily. If anything happens to me, who will take care of Lily?
"My daughter," Clara gasped, tears spilling over her cheeks as she clutched Victor’s expensive coat. "Please, they know where I live. Lily is there!"
Victor reached for his phone, dialing a number rapidly. "Leo. Secure the apartment at 42nd Street. Retrieve the child and the babysitter. Bring them to the estate immediately. Do not let anyone see you." He hung up and looked down at Clara, his gray eyes softened by a rare emotion—reassurance. "She will be safe, Clara. I swear it on my life."
Twenty minutes later, the SUV pulled through a set of massive, wrought-iron gates and up a winding driveway lined with towering pine trees. The Vance Estate was a sprawling, historic stone mansion that looked more like a fortress than a home.
Victor led Clara inside, where a roaring fireplace warmed the grand entryway. Almost immediately, another door opened, and Caleb came running down the hallway.
"Clara!" the boy cried, running straight to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. "You're here! Papa said you might visit!"
Clara, despite her terror, knelt down and hugged the boy tightly. "Hi, Caleb. I'm glad you're safe."
"She’s safe because of you, Caleb," Victor said, watching the interaction with an expression Clara had never expected to see on a mafia boss. It was pure, unconditional warmth. "Go to the dining room. The chef is preparing dinner."
Once Caleb was escorted away by a nanny, Victor turned to Clara. "The men who shot at us tonight belong to the Moretti family. They are my rivals. They saw my son alone at the fountain because of a security lapse, and they saw you step in. They assume you are someone important to me."
"But I'm not!" Clara cried, her voice cracking. "I'm just a waitress! I don't belong in your world!"
"They don't care about the truth, Clara. They only care about leverage," Victor said, stepping closer. His scent—expensive cologne, cedarwood, and rain—wrapped around her. "Until I dismantle the Moretti threat, you and Lily are not safe in your apartment. You will stay here, under my protection."
Before Clara could protest, the front doors opened, and Leo walked in, holding a sleepy, pajama-clad Lily in his arms.
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"Mommy!" Lily squealed, reaching out.
Clara ran to her daughter, sobbing with relief as she held her close. Over her daughter's shoulder, she met Victor’s gaze. He gave her a slow, reassuring nod. For the first time in years, Clara felt a strange, terrifying sensation: she felt safe.
