Chapter 1 - SHE WALKED INTO PIER 17 EXPECTING TO BEG FOR HER BROTHER’S LIFE—THEN CHICAGO’S MOST FEARED MAFIA BOSS OFFERED HER A WEDDING RING INSTEAD OF A BODY BAG
The last coin fell into my palm with the saddest sound in the world.
A quarter.
Coffee-stained.
Its edge had been worn smooth by thousands of tired hands before mine.
That week, it might make the difference between paying the electric bill and sitting with Lily beneath blankets in a dark apartment.
I stood behind the counter of the neighborhood coffee shop at the end of another overnight shift, counting spare change as if it were a rosary.
The smell of reheated coffee mixed with lemon detergent.
One fluorescent light flickered overhead.
“Girl, if you squeeze that coin any harder, it’s going to confess its childhood trauma.”
Marlow Quinn tossed a dish towel onto the counter.
She was twenty-six, sharp-tongued, and possessed the rare ability to make jokes before tragedy had time to become comfortable.
“I can hear it crying,” I said.
“It wants to go back into the register.”
“Absolutely not. That quarter is your scholarship to happiness.”
I laughed.
It hurt.
Most of my laughter did.
I dropped the coins into the old cookie tin that served as my emergency fund and removed my apron.
My name appeared on four shifts that week.
Underlined twice.
Marlow watched me pull on my thin coat.
“You’re going directly home?”
“Yes.”
“Lily okay?”
“She'll be asleep on the couch.”
“And Ryder?”
“Probably pretending he's too old to answer questions.”
“Kiss the irritating brother for me.”
“I’ll kiss him specifically because he’ll hate it.”
“That's friendship.”
The bus dropped me two blocks from our apartment.
I had left the coffee shop at six the previous morning, completed three delivery jobs that afternoon, slept for two hours, and returned for the overnight shift.
My body no longer knew which day it was.
I climbed three flights.
One.
Two.
Three.
Rest.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Counting prevented thinking.
Our apartment smelled of inexpensive detergent, stale cereal, and the tea Ryder always forgot beside the sink.
Lily slept sideways across the sofa.
Eight years old.
Tiny.
An earless stuffed bear was pressed against her chest.
I covered her with our plaid blanket.
“Kiss from Marlow,” I whispered.
Then I went looking for Ryder.
His door was open.
The bed was made.
His coat was gone.
No note.
I felt something tighten beneath my ribs.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
“Talia Renlow?”
A man's voice.
Calm.
“Who is this?”
“Your brother is inside a warehouse in the East Port district. Pier Seventeen.”
My blood turned cold.
“If you want to collect him, come now.”
“Is he hurt?”
“Come alone.”
The call ended.
I looked at Lily.
At the yellowed curtains.
At the clock.
3:40 a.m.
I called Mrs. Pereira downstairs and lied about an emergency at work.
She came up wearing a robe and slippers.
“Go,” she said. “I'll stay.”
I kissed Lily.
Then I descended the stairs without counting.
The bus toward East Port was nearly empty.
I stared through the window.
Chicago passed in gray pieces.
Closed stores.
Streetlights.
Steam.
Concrete.
But I saw my parents.
My mother's face inside a photograph.
My father holding a steering wheel on the last night he ever left home.
Ryder at eight years old asking me whether orphan was a permanent word.
I had been fifteen.
I told him no.
It was a lie.
Some words became permanent whether you wanted them to or not.
Pier Seventeen appeared behind rusted fencing.
Wind from the lake cut through my coat.
The warehouse door stood partially open.
A narrow line of yellow light crossed the pavement.
I entered.
My shoes echoed.
Then I saw Ryder.
Alive.
His coat was torn.
Blood marked the corner of his mouth.
He sat in a wooden chair.
Two men stood behind him.
And at the center of the warehouse sat another man.
Dark suit.
Dark tie.
Broad shoulders.
One knee crossed over the other.
He looked as if the entire warehouse belonged to him.
Maybe it did.
“You're the sister.”
His voice was low.
“Talia Renlow.”
“I am.”
“Come closer.”
I did.
“Who are you?”
“Kieran Moretti.”
My stomach dropped.
Everyone in Chicago knew the name.
Moretti.
Casinos.
Shipping.
Construction.
Nightclubs.
Politicians who denied knowing the family while attending their parties.
Kieran Moretti had inherited the organization after his father was murdered.
Rumors said he had reorganized it in eighteen months and buried everyone who challenged him.
I looked at Ryder.
“What did he do?”
Kieran studied me.
“Your brother stole from me.”
Ryder shouted:
“I didn't!”
One of the men struck the back of his chair.
I moved.
“Don't touch him!”
Kieran lifted one finger.
The man stopped.
Interesting.
Kieran looked at Ryder.
“Explain.”
Ryder's breathing was uneven.
“I was delivering packages.”
“For whom?”
“Denny.”
I knew Denny.
I hated Denny.
“Denny who?”
I asked.
“Forget it.”
“Ryder.”
Kieran answered.
“Dennis Colfax.”
I looked at Kieran.
“What did Dennis have him carrying?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
I nearly laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because we had twenty-three dollars in our checking account.
“Ryder doesn't have two hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
“No.”
Kieran's gaze never left mine.
“That's the problem.”
Ryder leaned forward.
“Talia, I didn't take it.”
“Then where is it?”
“I don't know.”
Kieran finally stood.
He was taller than I expected.
Six-three, perhaps.
He walked toward me.
Something about the way he moved bothered me.
Familiar.
I couldn't place it.
“Dennis Colfax disappeared yesterday,” Kieran said.
“Your brother made the final delivery.”
“So?”
“The bag arrived seventy thousand dollars light.”
Ryder shouted:
“I never opened it!”
I believed him.
That did not mean Kieran would.
“What happens now?” I asked.
Kieran stopped three feet away.
“Normally?”
“Yes.”
“Your brother doesn't leave.”
Ryder went pale.
I looked at Kieran.
“Then why call me?”
Something changed in his eyes.
“Because I need something.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looked at me for a long moment.
“A wife.”
Silence.
I stared.
Ryder actually laughed.
“What?”
Kieran remained serious.
“My grandfather's controlling trust transfers in three weeks.”
“I don't care.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
“Because under the terms, I retain voting control of Moretti Maritime only if I'm married before my thirty-fourth birthday.”
“That sounds like your problem.”
One of the men behind him almost smiled.
Kieran did not.
“My uncle currently controls the opposing shares. If he takes the company, he gains the ports.”
“Still your problem.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward Ryder.
“Until it becomes yours.”
My stomach turned.
“You're asking me to marry you?”
“I'm offering an agreement.”
“Same thing.”
“Your brother walks out tonight.”
I stared.
“His debt disappears.”
“What else?”
“Your family's financial obligations disappear.”
I stopped breathing.
He knew.
The rent.
My mother's medical bills.
The credit cards.
Lily's dental work.
Everything.
“How do you know about that?”
“I investigate people before making proposals.”
“This isn't a proposal.”
“No.”
“At least you're honest.”
“Usually.”
Kieran continued.
“You and your sister move somewhere safe. Lily attends a good school. You stop working overnight shifts.”
My anger flared.
“You don't get to decide whether I work.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“Fine.”
That answer surprised me.
“You continue working if you choose.”
“And the marriage?”
“One year.”
“Separate rooms?”
“If that's what you want.”
“No children.”
His expression became strange for half a second.
“Agreed.”
Something inside me twisted.
I ignored it.
“No touching me without permission.”
“Agreed.”
“No controlling Lily.”
“Agreed.”
“Ryder stays away from your business.”
“Preferably forever.”
Ryder shouted:
“Talia, don't do this!”
I turned.
“Do you have seventy thousand dollars?”
“No.”
“Then be quiet.”
Kieran almost smiled.
I looked at him.
“And after one year?”
“Divorce.”
“What do I receive?”
“Five million dollars.”
I laughed.
Kieran waited.
“You think that's funny?”
“I counted quarters tonight.”
His expression changed.
I continued.
“Five million dollars doesn't sound like money. It sounds like a telephone number.”
“It's real.”
“And if I refuse?”
Kieran looked at Ryder.
I stepped between them.
“No. Look at me.”
He did.
“If I refuse?”
Silence.
Then:
“Your brother faces the consequences of his choices.”
“Meaning you kill him?”
Kieran did not answer.
That was answer enough.
I hated him.
In that moment, I hated Kieran Moretti more than I had ever hated another person.
Then he tilted his head.
The warehouse light touched his face differently.
And suddenly my heart stopped.
No.
It couldn't be.
Six weeks earlier.
A storm.
A hotel bar.
A man named Ian.
I had been delivering catering supplies to the Lakeshore Grand when the city flooded beneath an October storm.
The bus lines stopped.
The manager let stranded workers remain in the lobby.
I had sat in the bar drinking club soda.
A man occupied the stool beside me.
No bodyguards.
No expensive suit.
Jeans.
Dark sweater.
A bruise beneath one eye.
He introduced himself as Ian.
We talked for three hours.
I told him nothing important.
He told me less.
But for one night, I was not Ryder's sister.
Not Lily's guardian.
Not a broke coffee-shop worker.
I was simply Talia.
He made me laugh.
Then he walked me upstairs because the hotel had given staff empty rooms.
At the elevator, he kissed me.
I kissed him back.
One night.
One reckless, impossible night.
In the morning he was gone.
No number.
No last name.
Only a note.
THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME BE SOMEONE ELSE.
—I
I had been furious.
Then embarrassed.
Then relieved.
That was six weeks ago.
Now I stared at Kieran.
Same eyes.
Same small scar beside his mouth.
Same voice.
Different clothes.
Different name.
Kieran stared back.
Recognition struck him too.
“Talia?”
Ryder looked between us.
“You know him?”
Kieran whispered:
“The hotel.”
I slapped him.
The sound echoed across the warehouse.
Both guards moved.
Kieran raised his hand.
They stopped.
“You lied to me.”
“I used my middle name.”
“That's called lying.”
“Yes.”
“You knew who I was?”
“No.”
“You investigated me afterward?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Kieran's expression hardened.
“Because I decided leaving was safer.”
“For whom?”
“Both of us.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently not.”
Ryder stared.
“What the hell happened at a hotel?”
“Nothing you need to know.”
Kieran looked genuinely shaken now.
For the first time since I entered the warehouse, he was not in control.
“You're the woman from that night.”
“Congratulations.”
“And you work at—”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“Don't suddenly pretend this changes what you're doing.”
“It does.”
“How?”
He looked toward Ryder.
Then back at me.
His jaw tightened.
“I'll release him.”
Ryder stared.
“What?”
“No marriage required.”
Now it was my turn to be confused.
Kieran gestured.
One guard untied Ryder.
“You're letting him go?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this arrangement is no longer clean.”
I laughed.
“It was clean before?”
“No.”
At least he understood that.
Ryder stumbled toward me.
I grabbed him.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
I touched his bruised face.
Then turned toward Kieran.
“We're leaving.”
He nodded.
At the door, his voice stopped me.
“Talia.”
I turned.
He looked at me.
There was something almost vulnerable beneath the criminal authority.
“I am sorry about the hotel.”
“For leaving?”
“For not giving you a choice about whether you ever saw me again.”
I didn't know what to do with that.
So I left.
Ryder and I rode home in silence.
At the apartment, I made him sit at the kitchen table.
Then I slapped the table so hard Lily's cereal bowl jumped.
“What were you thinking?”
“I needed money.”
“For what?”
He looked away.
“Ryder.”
“Lily's school.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“She got accepted.”
I knew.
A private academy had offered Lily partial aid.
Partial.
We still needed nine thousand dollars.
“I was going to tell you.”
“You became a courier for criminals to pay tuition?”
“I thought it was just gambling money.”
I sat down.
My anger collapsed into exhaustion.
“You don't save this family by becoming another person I have to save.”
Ryder started crying.
I had not seen him cry since he was fourteen.
“I wanted to help.”
“I know.”
That was the tragedy.
I pulled him against me.
“We'll figure it out.”
We always said that.
We rarely knew how.
Three mornings later, I vomited behind the coffee shop.
Marlow held my hair.
“Food poisoning?”
“Probably.”
“You said that yesterday.”
I froze.
Marlow froze too.
“Talia.”
“No.”
“When was your last period?”
I calculated.
Stopped.
“No.”
Marlow stared.
“Oh, honey.”
“No.”
An hour later, two pink lines appeared.
I sat on the bathroom floor.
Pregnant.
Six weeks, maybe.
There had been only one man.
Ian.
Kieran.
Kieran Moretti.
The man who had almost forced me to marry him in exchange for my brother's life.
I laughed.
Then cried.
Then laughed again.
Marlow sat beside me.
“You're going to tell him?”
“I don't know.”
“You have to eventually.”
“I know.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
My stomach dropped.
I answered.
“Talia.”
Kieran.
“What?”
“Your brother didn't steal the money.”
I closed my eyes.
“I know.”
“No. I mean I can prove it.”
“What happened?”
“Dennis Colfax is dead.”
Cold moved through me.
“And the missing money?”
“Someone planted it in Ryder's locker at his warehouse job.”
“Why?”
Silence.
“Kieran?”
“Because someone wanted me to bring you to Pier Seventeen.”
I stood.
“What?”
“The missing money wasn't about Ryder.”
My hand moved unconsciously to my stomach.
“It was about you.”
“Why would anyone care about me?”
“I don't know.”
Then someone knocked on our apartment door.
Three slow knocks.
I looked toward it.
“Kieran.”
“What?”
“Someone's here.”
“Don't open it.”
The doorknob turned.
Locked.
Then a man's voice came through.
“Ms. Renlow?”
I backed away.
“Who is it?”
“Chicago Police.”
Kieran said immediately:
“No.”
“What?”
“I have two officers outside your building. Neither is CPD.”
The door shook.
Lily appeared in the hallway.
“Talia?”
I grabbed her.
“Kieran.”
“Take Lily and Ryder into the bathroom. Lock the door.”
“What about—”
“Do it.”
The apartment door exploded inward.
I screamed.
Ryder ran from his room.
Two masked men entered.
Then gunfire erupted in the hallway.
I pulled Lily down.
Someone crashed against the wall.
More shouting.
Then silence.
A minute later:
“Talia!”
Kieran.
I opened the bathroom door.
He stood in our apartment.
No suit.
No tie.
A gun in his hand.
Blood on his sleeve that did not appear to be his.
His eyes found me.
Then Lily.
Then Ryder.
Everyone alive.
He lowered the weapon.
One of his men entered carrying an envelope.
“Boss.”
Kieran took it.
Inside was a photograph.
Me.
Leaving the Lakeshore Grand six weeks earlier.
Kieran beside me.
On the back were five words:
YOU SHOULD HAVE MARRIED HER.
Kieran stared.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Who is this?”
A distorted voice spoke loudly enough for me to hear.
“Your uncle sends his congratulations.”
Kieran went completely still.
The voice continued.
“He knows about the girl.”
My hand pressed harder against my stomach.
Nobody noticed.
Yet.
“He knows what?” Kieran asked.
The caller laughed.
“That you finally found something worth losing.”
The line disconnected.
Kieran looked at me.
“We have to leave.”
“I am not going anywhere with you.”
“They know where Lily sleeps.”
That silenced me.
Kieran continued.
“They used Ryder to bring you to me. They photographed us six weeks ago. This started before Pier Seventeen.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I did.
Or at least I suddenly feared I did.
My free hand remained over my stomach.
Kieran's uncle knew about me.
Maybe he knew more.
Maybe someone had followed me from the pharmacy.
Maybe the attack had nothing to do with being Kieran's former one-night mistake.
I looked down at Lily.
Then at the destroyed door.
“Kieran.”
“Yes?”
“There is something I need to tell you.”
Before I could continue, his security chief rushed inside.
“We need to move. Now.”
Kieran reached toward me.
Then remembered.
He stopped before touching.
“May I?”
That tiny question nearly broke me.
I nodded.
He took my hand.
May you like
I followed him downstairs.
And inside my body, unnoticed by the man holding my hand, his child came with us.
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