Chapter 13 - No More Men Outside Her Door
The arrest happened quietly.
Rafael wasn’t dragged from a restaurant.
No dramatic raid.
No shattered windows.
Federal financial investigators met him outside his attorney’s office and served warrants covering several corporate entities.
The recording had helped.
The money trail helped more.
Within seventy-two hours, accounts linked to the redevelopment fund were frozen.
Two city consultants resigned.
One transportation official hired a criminal-defense attorney.
And one member of Nico’s organization disappeared.
Not literally.
He stopped answering phones.
Arthur found his apartment empty.
“Daniel Voss,” Nico said.
I sat across from him inside a conference room at Bellini Development.
“Who is he?”
“Financial adviser.”
“How long?”
“Eleven years.”
“And he sold Rafael information?”
“Looks like it.”
“Why?”
Arthur answered.
“Debt.”
“Gambling?”
“No. Bad investments. Secret ones.”
Nico stared at the table.
Voss had sat in the study.
Drank Nico’s liquor.
Advised him on properties.
He had also known about the rail corridor.
“Do you know where he is?” I asked.
“No,” Nico said.
“And if you find him?”
Arthur looked at Nico.
So did I.
This was a test.
Nico knew it.
“I give the evidence to the investigators.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose.
“You sure?”
“No.”
I appreciated the answer more because it was true.
Nico looked at me.
“But yes.”
That was the difference between instinct and choice.
His instinct remained the man he had always been.
His choice was becoming someone else.
After the meeting, I walked outside alone.
Marcus was across the street.
I recognized the dark jacket.
I stopped.
He noticed.
I crossed toward him.
“Coffee?”
He blinked.
“Ms. Bennett?”
“You’ve been following me for two months. We can have coffee.”
Inside the café, Marcus looked profoundly uncomfortable.
“Does Mr. Bellini know?”
“About coffee?”
“About us talking.”
“I’m not asking permission.”
“Right.”
I liked him immediately.
“How much do you report?”
“Immediate threats only.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
“You swear?”
“Yes.”
“Where I go?”
“No.”
“Who I meet?”
“No.”
“What I buy?”
He looked confused.
“No.”
“Good.”
I sipped my coffee.
“Your assignment ends today.”
Marcus nearly choked.
“I don’t think—”
“I appreciate what you’ve done. Rafael is under investigation. I’m changing my routines and the building has security.”
“Mr. Bellini—”
“Will survive.”
Marcus looked like a man trapped between two extremely inconvenient people.
“I should call him.”
“You should.”
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
Nico.
I answered.
“Hello.”
“You fired Marcus.”
“I ended a service.”
“He works for me.”
“Then congratulations, he’s still employed.”
“Norah.”
“I don’t want security following me anymore.”
“There are still risks.”
“There will always be risks around you.”
Silence.
“That was unfair,” I said.
“No. It was accurate.”
“I can’t live as though every sidewalk belongs to your enemies.”
“I know.”
“So?”
He exhaled slowly.
“So Marcus is done.”
Just like that.
I stopped walking.
“You’re not going to argue?”
“I want to.”
“But?”
“You asked.”
Something warm and painful moved through me.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me for respecting something I should have respected three years ago.”
That was new too.
That evening, I received a package at my apartment.
My body tensed when I saw the box.
No return address.
I called building security.
They inspected it.
Safe.
Inside was the white ceramic mug.
Build something that lasts.
The cracked bottom had been repaired.
Not invisibly.
A thin golden line followed the fracture.
There was no expensive jewelry.
No flowers.
No key to the penthouse.
Just the mug.
And a handwritten note.
This was yours before me. Maria found it. I had the crack repaired because throwing it away felt wrong. If you don’t want it, throw it away yourself. —N
I ran my thumb over the golden seam.
Then I laughed.
Then, annoyingly, cried.
I called Nico.
He answered on the first ring.
“You repaired my ugly mug.”
“It’s objectively terrible.”
“You remembered it was mine.”
“I’m trying to remember the difference.”
Between mine and yours.
Between giving and owning.
Between protecting and controlling.
Between love and possession.
I sat on the floor beside the box.
“Dinner.”
Silence.
“What?”
“You asked me to dinner.”
“Yes.”
“Friday.”
I could hear him breathing.
“Friday works.”
“Seven.”
“Where?”
“I choose.”
“Of course you do.”
I smiled.
“And Nico?”
“Yes?”
“No guards.”
A pause.
“Fine.”
“No car waiting.”
“Fine.”
“No private room.”
“Norah.”
“Public restaurant.”
“Fine.”
“And if I want to leave after twenty minutes, I leave.”
His voice softened.
“You can always leave.”
That sentence hit me harder than anything romantic could have.
Because the first night I walked out, I left believing Nico saw my freedom as betrayal.
Now he was saying the door would stay open.
Maybe he meant it.
Maybe he was learning.
Maybe I was too.
What neither of us knew was that Daniel Voss had not fled Chicago.
He had been hiding less than four miles from my apartment.
And while Rafael’s accounts were frozen, Voss had something far more dangerous than money.
He had proof connecting Nico to years of crimes.
And he had decided there was only one person Nico might sacrifice everything to protect.
May you like
Me.
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