Chapter 4 - The Apartment in Lincoln ParkOn Monday afternoon, the winter sun shone brightly over a quiet, tree-lined street in Lincoln Park.
I stood inside the sunlit living room of a small, charming two-bedroom apartment on the third floor of a historic brick building. The apartment had warm hardwood floors, large windows overlooking the park, and a small balcony where I could read in the morning.
My best friend, Sarah, was helping me unpack three cardboard boxes containing my clothes, books, and art supplies.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay tonight, Em?" Sarah asked gently, setting a stack of ceramic plates onto the kitchen counter.
"I'm sure, Sarah," I smiled warmly, wiping a streak of dust from my cheek. "For four years, I lived in a thirty-room mansion where every footstep echoed like a threat. This place is small, warm, and mine. I slept eight hours last night for the first time in two years."
Sarah walked over, pulling me into a tight, fierce hug. "You're amazing, Emily. You took down the most feared man in Chicago with a single signature."
"I didn't take him down, Sarah," I murmured into her shoulder. "I just stopped letting him take me down."
At 7:00 PM, after Sarah had left for her night shift at Northwestern, the quiet afternoon turned into a cold, foggy evening.
I sat on my comfortable velvet sofa, wearing grey sweatpants and a warm sweater, sipping a hot cup of chamomile tea while reading a novel.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
The heavy wood of my front door rattled with three firm, deliberate strikes.
I froze.
My apartment building had a secure keypad entrance at the street level. No one could reach the third-floor corridor without a key or a tenant buzzing them in from the intercom.
I stood up slowly, setting my teacup down on the wooden coffee table, walking to the door. I looked through the brass peephole.
Standing in the dim hallway, wearing a dark wool coat drenched in cold rain, his dark hair damp, his face pale, tortured, and desperate, was Daniel.
My heart took a sharp, sudden leap against my ribs, but I forced my posture to remain steady. I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open six inches, keeping the heavy brass security chain engaged.
"Daniel," I spoke softly. "How did you get past the street door?"
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Daniel stood in the narrow hallway, his towering six-foot-three frame practically filling the corridor. He looked at me through the six-inch gap, his grey eyes bloodshot, his hands trembling slightly inside his coat pockets.
"I bought the building twenty minutes ago, Emily," Daniel revealed raspy.
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