Chapter 4 - The Preparation for the Trap
By Friday afternoon, the city of Chicago was buzzing with anticipation for the wedding of the year. Tabloids were plastered with glossy photos of Isabella Kensington in her four-hundred-thousand-dollar custom wedding gown, posing outside St. Augustine Cathedral with her father, smiling for the cameras and talking about the grand post-wedding reception aboard the luxury yacht Belladonna.
Inside the DeMarco penthouse, however, the mood was surgical.
Gabriel sat at his desk, reviewing a detailed operational layout provided by his loyal security detail. Across from him sat two federal prosecutors from the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Northern District of Illinois, alongside a senior cybercrimes investigator.
“We have enough documentation on the financial fraud, extortion, and corporate conspiracy to issue immediate arrest warrants for Damian Kensington and Vincent DeMarco,” the lead prosecutor said, sliding a stack of stamped federal warrants across the mahogany desk. “And the audio recording of Marcus confirming the maritime sabotage plot gives us probable cause for attempted murder.”
Gabriel signed his name across the authorization forms with a heavy, satisfying stroke of his fountain pen.
“Execute the warrants tomorrow at noon,” Gabriel instructed coldly. “Right in the middle of the cathedral rehearsal.”
“And Miss Kensington?” the investigator asked.
“Let her walk down the aisle,” Gabriel said, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous squint. “Let her wear her crown, carry her flowers, and stand at the altar in front of four hundred guests, two judges, and three congressmen. Let her think she’s won everything. And then, when she reaches for the signature line... we pull the rug out from under the entire family.”
Meanwhile, at St. Jude’s Memorial, Evelyn was being discharged.
Despite her protests that she needed to get back to work, Gabriel had arranged for a private medical transport to take her not back to her drafty apartment, but to a secure, high-security penthouse suite on the Gold Coast, fully stocked with medical supplies, security guards at the door, and a wardrobe of elegant, comfortable clothes tailored specifically for her.
When she stepped out of the elevator into the penthouse, she stood paralyzed. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of Lake Michigan, shimmering under the late-afternoon sun.
“You can’t stay in that apartment anymore, Evelyn,” Gabriel said, walking up behind her. He had changed into a sharp charcoal suit, preparing for the final phase of the operation. “Until this is completely resolved, this is your home. You’ll be safe here.”
Evelyn turned around, looking up at him with a mix of gratitude and anxiety. “Gabriel... what happens tomorrow? When the warrants are served in the middle of the cathedral?”
May you like
Gabriel smiled—a rare, genuine smile that transformed his harsh features into something remarkably warm.
“Tomorrow,” Gabriel said softly, “Chicago is going to learn the difference between an assistant who organizes folders... and a woman who saves an empire.”
