Chapter 5 - The Gold Coast Sanctuary
The Cross estate was not a house; it was a fortress disguised as a nineteen-century limestone mansion tucked behind high iron gates near the shore of Lake Michigan.
Security guards in discrete dark suits stood near the heavy iron entryways, checking the vehicle with handheld scanners before the gates swung open smoothly.
As the SUV stopped under the wide stone portico, two house staff members holding black umbrellas stepped forward immediately, opening the doors.
Mia stared up at the grand marble foyer, her jaw dropping. High ceilings, sweeping grand staircases, crystal chandeliers, and oil paintings lined the walls.
“Mommy,” Mia whispered, leaning into my side. “Is this a museum?”
“It’s a home, Mia,” Lily said, taking off her red raincoat and handing it to a waiting housekeeper. “Come on, I have a playroom upstairs with two dollhouses.”
Mia looked up at me for permission. I hesitated, still processing the surreal turn my life had taken in less than two hours.
“Go ahead, sweetie,” I said gently. “Stay with Lily.”
As the two little girls ran up the carpeted grand stairs accompanied by a friendly female staff member, the quiet magnitude of the mansion settled over me.
Damian walked into the formal study off the main hall, unbuttoning his vest. He pointed toward a plush velvet armchair near a marble fireplace that crackled with a warm, low fire.
“Sit, Nora,” he said.
I didn't sit. I walked over to the tall windows overlooking the rain-swept private courtyard. “How long do you expect us to stay here, Mr. Cross?”
“Damian,” he corrected, walking over to a mahogany bar cart and pouring two fingers of dark amber whiskey into a short glass. He didn't offer me one, recognizing my professional posture. “And you will stay as long as it takes to ensure Julian Vance and his employer understand that touching you means war with me.”
“And how long does that take in your world?”
“Usually forty-eight hours,” Damian answered calmly.
At that moment, the heavy oak door of the study opened. A tall, silver-haired man with a severe posture and a scarred cheek stepped inside, carrying a thick leather folder.
“Boss,” the silver-haired man said, ignoring my presence entirely. “We secured the perimeter around Mrs. Vance’s Edgewater apartment building twenty minutes ago. Julian’s team was already there.”
I stepped forward, my pulse spiking. “They were at my apartment?”
The silver-haired man looked at Damian, receiving a subtle nod before answering me. “Yes, ma'am. Two men in a gray sedan were monitoring your alleyway. They had lockpicks and an electronic key cloner.”
I covered my mouth with one hand. My mind immediately jumped to Mia’s bedroom, her stuffed animals, my small security lock... things that felt safe three hours ago were suddenly exposed and vulnerable.
“What did you do?” Damian asked the silver-haired man.
“Marcus and the boys detained them quietly,” the man reported. “They are currently in a holding facility near the docks. Julian wasn't with them. He’s hiding out at a private club owned by Victor Vance in Northbrook.”
Damian’s eyes darkened, turning as cold as frozen iron.
“Victor Vance,” Damian repeated the name softly, almost thoughtfully. “Mark’s uncle. The old man still thinks he can use street thugs to recover his lost real estate capital.”
May you like
Damian set his whiskey glass down on the desk with a soft, final clink.
“Marcus,” Damian commanded. “Call Victor Vance. Tell him I am hosting his nephew’s ex-wife for dinner tomorrow evening at my estate. And tell him if he wants to discuss Mark’s debts, he will come here in person—unarmed.”
