Chapter 7 - Sunday in Brooklyn
Sunday morning brought brilliant autumn sunlight and a crisp breeze that smelled of falling leaves.
Hannah took the subway across the river into Brooklyn, stepping out into the familiar neighborhood of brownstones and corner bodegas where she had grown up. When she unlocked the door of her mother’s apartment, the familiar smell of cinnamon, coffee, and old paper rushed out to greet her.
"Hannah!" Margaret Cooper dropped a dish towel on the kitchen counter and hurried over, wrapping her arms around her daughter in a tight, fierce embrace. "Look at you! You look... you look healthy. Not like you're living off instant ramen and panic."
"I changed jobs, Mom," Hannah said, smiling as she kissed her mother’s cheek. "Remember? Private nanny work."
Her brother, David, walked out of the living room holding a mug of coffee. He was dressed in his NYPD uniform pants and a plain t-shirt, his broad shoulders and steady cop’s gaze instantly recognizable. He looked at Hannah with a mixture of relief and lingering skepticism.
"Private nanny," David repeated, leaning against the doorframe. "You still haven't cashed that five-hundred-dollar check I left in your mailbox three months ago, Han."
"I didn't need it, Dave," she said, sitting down at the kitchen table. "My new employer pays very well. Generously, in fact."
"Who is he?" David asked, narrowing his eyes slightly. "You still haven't told us his name or where he lives. Upper West Side penthouse? That sounds like hedge fund money or... worse."
"His name is Lucas Ravellini," Hannah said evenly.
David froze. The mug stopped halfway to his mouth. Margaret dropped her spoon back into the sink with a sharp clatter.
"Lucas Ravellini?" David repeated, his voice dropping into professional caution. "Han, are you out of your mind? That name is flagged in every database down at the precinct. Real estate on paper, but federal intelligence and local task forces have been trying to pin him to the import-export syndicates on the West Side for a decade."
"He’s a businessman, Dave," Hannah defended him, feeling a sudden, defensive spike of anger. "He is raising a four-year-old boy by himself. He protects his family. He treats me with respect, and he doesn't judge me for what happened with the school board."
"He’s a criminal, Hannah," David said firmly, stepping closer to the table. "You can't work for men like that. They use people like chess pieces. Sooner or later, the federal warrants catch up, or a rival crew makes a move, and you're standing in the crossfire."
"I am standing in the crossfire of normal life every single day!" Hannah snapped, standing up from the chair so fast it scraped against the linoleum. "The school board destroyed my career for telling the truth. The city turned its back on me when I had no money for rent. Lucas Ravellini is the only man in this city who looked at my record, saw what happened, and said, 'You are valuable.' You want me to quit? You want me to go back to being unemployed and desperate? No. I’m done running, Dave."
The kitchen went dead silent. Margaret stood by the stove, her hands trembling slightly as she looked between her children.
May you like
David let out a long, slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, Han. Men like that don't love. They possess."
"He doesn't possess me," Hannah said quietly, though her heart pounded against her ribs at the thought of Lucas’s hand on her cheek the night before. "I work for him. And I care for his son. That’s all."
