Chapter 3 - Dominic Moretti stepped out of the bushes. He was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. His shirt was torn and singed, and he was limping. He looked like a demon rising from hell. He held a jagged shard of glass from the nursery window in his hand.
He had no gun.
“Dominic,” Luca stammered, his face draining of color. “I was just securing the perimeter.”
“I heard you,” Dominic growled, continuing to walk forward. “You called me weak.”
“No, Dominic, wait.”
Luca raised his gun to shoot Dominic, but Sarah moved.
Seeing Luca distracted, she saw her only chance. She did not run away.
She ran at him.
She swung the heavy brass lamp she had dragged all the way from the nursery. She had not even realized she was still clutching it until that moment. She swung it with all the rage of a woman tired of men trying to kill the child she was protecting.
Crack.
The base of the lamp connected with Luca’s wrist. The bone snapped with a sickening crunch. Luca screamed, dropping the gun.
Dominic lunged.
He did not use the glass.
He used his fists.
He tackled Luca into the mud, raining down blows fueled by a lifetime of betrayal.
“You sold us out,” Dominic roared, landing a punch that shattered Luca’s nose. “To the Gallos. For what? Money? Power?”
“For respect,” Luca spat blood, laughing maniacally. “You’re soft, Dominic. You let a nurse run your house.”
Dominic stood, breathing heavily. He looked down at his uncle, a broken heap in the mud.
“You’re right,” Dominic said. “I am soft, because I’m going to let you live long enough to tell me where the rest of your rats are hiding.”
Mateo and 3 other loyal guards finally emerged from the darkness, running toward them. They had regained control of the house.
“Take him to the basement,” Dominic ordered, pointing at Luca. “And don’t let him die. Not yet.”
Dominic turned to Sarah.
She was standing in the rain, still holding the lamp in 1 hand and the baby in the other. She was shaking uncontrollably.
Dominic walked over to her. He did not say a word. He simply wrapped his arms around her and the baby, pulling them into his chest. He buried his face in her wet hair.
“You stayed,” he whispered into her ear. “You didn’t run.”
“I hit him with a lamp,” Sarah sobbed, the adrenaline crashing.
Dominic pulled back slightly, looking at her face. He wiped a smudge of soot from her cheek with his thumb.
“Remind me never to make you angry, Sarah Jenkins.”
For the 1st time since the hospital, amid the rain and blood, Dominic leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead.
It was not a kiss of passion.
It was a kiss of reverence.
“Let’s go inside,” he said. “We have a family to rebuild.”
The stitching came after the adrenaline crash.
Two hours after the attack, the Moretti estate was a hive of controlled chaos. Cleanup crews were already scrubbing blood from the foyer marble. Glaziers were measuring the broken windows. The bodies of the mercenaries had vanished, taken away in unmarked vans to the marshlands of Indiana.
In the master bathroom, however, it was quiet.
Dominic sat on the edge of the tub, his shirt removed, revealing a torso that was a map of old, violent scars from knives, bullets, and wire. But tonight, there was a fresh cut, a jagged gash on his shoulder from the exploding glass.
Sarah stood between his legs, a suture kit open on the counter. She was not shaking anymore. The nurse had returned.
“This is going to sting,” she said, threading the needle. “I don’t have lidocaine.”
“I don’t need it,” Dominic grunted.
He watched her face as she worked. She was focused, her brow furrowed, her hands gentle but efficient. She had washed the soot from her face, but a bruise was blooming on her arm where she had hit the ground.
“You should let a doctor do this,” Sarah murmured, piercing his skin with the needle.
“I’m done with doctors,” Dominic said. “I only trust you.”
He hissed slightly as she pulled the thread tight.
“You saved my life tonight, Sarah,” he said, his voice low. “And you saved Leo again.”
“I did what I had to do.”
“No.”
Dominic caught her hand, stopping her.
“Most people would have run. You had an open field. You could have disappeared. Why didn’t you?”
Sarah looked down at him. The distance between them was nonexistent. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
“Because,” she whispered, realizing the truth as she said it, “I didn’t want to live in a world where you didn’t exist.”
Dominic’s eyes darkened. The air in the bathroom shifted, becoming thick and heavy. He reached up, his hand cupping the back of her neck, his thumb tracing the pulse point below her jaw.
“You entered a war zone for me,” he said. “You understand what that means. In my world, blood binds you. You aren’t just an employee anymore. You aren’t just a guest.”
“What am I?” Sarah asked, her breath hitching.
Dominic stood, ignoring the fresh stitches. He towered over her, consuming her space.
“You’re mine,” he said.
He kissed her.
It was not gentle. It was possessive, a claiming. It tasted of whiskey and survival. Sarah melted into him, her hands finding purchase on his bare shoulders. For a moment, the mafia boss and the poor nurse ceased to exist. There was only a man and a woman who had looked death in the face and chosen each other.
When they broke apart, breathless, Dominic pressed his forehead against hers.
“Tomorrow, things change,” he promised. “No more hiding. If anyone wants to get to you, they have to burn the whole city down first.”
The next morning, Chicago learned that the lion was awake.
Dominic did not just remove the rot from his organization. He cauterized it. Uncle Luca’s betrayal had been deep, involving captains in 3 different districts. Dominic spent the week in meetings that ended with men missing and businesses changing hands.
Sarah saw a different side of him, the ruthless tactician. She sat in on the meetings in the library, holding Leo on her lap. At first, the other captains, hard men with scars and criminal records, looked at her with confusion.
Why is the nanny here?
But they learned quickly.
During a heated dispute with a union leader who was refusing to move shipments, Dominic remained silent, letting the man scream. Sarah, who was burping Leo, simply looked up.
“He’s lying about the tonnage,” she said. “I checked the manifests on the desk. The numbers don’t match the shipping weight.”
The room went silent.
Dominic smiled.
The union leader turned pale.
“She reads the manifests,” the man stammered.
“She reads everything,” Dominic said, leaning back in his chair. “And she’s right. You’re skimming off the top.”
That afternoon, the union leader was replaced.
Sarah was not just the caregiver anymore.
She became the gatekeeper. She organized Dominic’s chaotic schedule. She managed the household staff with a firmness that surprised everyone. She even cross-referenced the medical supplies for the organization’s underground clinics, saving them thousands of dollars and improving survival rates for wounded soldiers.
She was intelligent, sharp, and because she came from poverty, she understood the value of a dollar in a way these men born into crime royalty did not.
But the real test came 2 weeks later.
The gala.
The debut.
The Chicago Winter Charity Ball was the biggest social event of the season. It was neutral ground where politicians, judges, and the heads of the crime families mingled under the guise of philanthropy.
“I can’t go,” Sarah said, staring at the dress hanging in her room.
It was a custom-made gown of midnight blue velvet designed to hug every curve.
“Dominic, I’m a nurse. I don’t know how to talk to senators.”
Dominic walked into the room adjusting his cufflinks. He looked devastating in a tuxedo.
“You don’t need to talk to them,” Dominic said. “You just need to stand next to me. Tonight, we show the city that the Moretti family is unbreakable, and we show them who the new lady of the house is.”
“I’m not—”
Sarah trailed off.
“Put on the dress, Sarah.”
When they arrived at the Drake Hotel, the paparazzi flashbulbs were blinding. Dominic stepped out of the limousine first, buttoning his jacket. He turned and offered his hand.
Sarah took a deep breath.
She thought of the 15 doctors who had sneered at her. She thought of the debt collectors who used to pound on her father’s door. She thought of Luca pointing a gun at Leo.
She was not that scared girl anymore.
She had knocked out a capo with a lamp.
She had saved the heir.
She took Dominic’s hand and stepped out.
A hush fell over the red carpet.
Sarah Jenkins looked regal. The blue velvet made her skin glow, and around her neck hung a necklace of diamonds and sapphires, a family heirloom Dominic had given her in the car.
Who is she?
The whispers started.
Inside the ballroom, Dominic did not leave her side. He introduced her to the mayor, to the police commissioner, and to the rival don of the Romano family.
“This is Sarah,” Dominic said simply.
Not my nurse.
Not my girlfriend.
Just Sarah.
The implication was clear.
She is my equal.
Halfway through the night, Dr. Alistair Sterling appeared. The disgraced doctor had managed to claw his way into the event, likely looking for new benefactors. When he saw Dominic, he turned pale and tried to retreat, but he bumped directly into Sarah.
“Miss—Ms. Jenkins,” Sterling stuttered, sweating profusely. “I heard you were working privately now.”
The room went quiet. People were watching.
This was the doctor who had nearly killed Leo.
Sarah looked at him. She held a glass of champagne in her hand. She could have humiliated him. She could have had Dominic drag him out.
Instead, she smiled.
It was a cold Moretti smile.
“It’s good to see you, Dr. Sterling,” she said, her voice carrying clearly. “I hope you’ve updated your knowledge on polymer toxicity. It would be a shame for another accident to happen.”
She turned to the chief of medicine of Chicago General, who was standing nearby.
“Dr. Sterling was just telling me he’s looking for a sabbatical to study basics. Perhaps you can recommend a remedial program.”
Sterling turned red. The circle of elites laughed. In that moment, Sarah did not just destroy his reputation.
She did it with surgical precision.
It terrified him more than a gun.
Dominic watched her from a few feet away, a glass of scotch in his hand, pride swelling in his chest.
“She’s a killer,” Mateo whispered to Dominic.
“Yes,” Dominic nodded. “She is.”
Six months passed.
Leo was crawling now, a healthy, boisterous baby who was already trying to climb the furniture. Sophia had recovered, finding strength in her son’s survival. She had taken over the family’s legitimate charity foundations, leaving the business to Dominic.
Sarah and Dominic had fallen into a rhythm of domestic power.
But there was 1 thing left to settle.
It happened on the balcony of the estate overlooking the lake. Snow was falling, covering the grounds in a blanket of white.
“My lawyers finished the paperwork today,” Dominic said, handing Sarah a thick envelope.
“Paperwork?” Sarah asked, worried. “Is something wrong?”
“Open it.”
Sarah opened the folder.
It was not a prenup.
It was an adoption decree and a deed.
“I’m adopting Leo,” Dominic said officially. “He will be my son in the eyes of the law, not just my nephew. Sophia agrees it’s best for his protection.”
Sarah nodded, tears pricking her eyes.
“That’s wonderful, Dominic.”
“Read the rest.”
Sarah flipped the page. It was a deed to the estate. Half of it was in Dominic’s name. The other half was in hers.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
Dominic took the papers from her and set them on the stone railing. He took her hands.
“I never wanted a wife,” Dominic said. “I saw what this life did to women. It broke them. It made them widows. But you don’t break, Sarah. You fix things. You fixed Leo. You fixed this house. You fixed me.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
It was not a modern cut. It was an antique, a massive square-cut diamond surrounded by rubies dark as blood. It had belonged to his grandmother, the 1st matriarch of the Outfit.
“This ring has a history of violence,” Dominic said. “But I want to give it a future of loyalty. Marry me, Sarah. Be the mother to this boy. Be the queen of this city.”
Sarah looked at the ring, then at the man. The man who had given her a purpose, a family, and a love so fierce it terrified her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Dominic slid the ring onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
Five years later, sunlight fell over the garden.
A 5-year-old boy with dark curls ran through the grass, chasing a golden retriever. He laughed, a sound of pure joy.
“Leo, careful near the roses,” Sarah called out.
She was sitting on the terrace, drinking tea. She looked different now. Her hair was cut in a sharp, chic bob. Her clothes were tailored silk. She radiated authority.
Dominic walked out reading a tablet. He kissed the top of her head.
“The shipment arrived,” he said quietly. “And the Romano dispute is settled.”
“Did you have to use the leverage?” Sarah asked, not looking up from her book.
“No. I just told them my wife wasn’t happy with their pricing,” Dominic said, smirking. “They folded immediately.”
Sarah smiled.
“Good.”
Leo ran up to them, breathless.
“Mom. Dad. Look what I found.”
He held up a beetle.
Dominic crouched, looking at the bug with mock seriousness.
“A fine specimen, Leonardo. Strong armor.”
Sarah watched them, the 2 loves of her life. The world outside the gates was still dangerous. The FBI still watched them. Rivals still plotted. But inside those walls, they were untouchable.
The nurse who had been invisible, the girl drowning in debt, had died that night in the hospital. In her place stood a woman who had walked through fire and tamed the lion.
She was not just Sarah Jenkins anymore.
She was Sarah Moretti.
May you like
And in Chicago, that name meant more than the mayor.
It meant safety, as long as no one crossed her family.
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