Chapter 4 - The North Avenue EstateThe silence that followed Marcus’s departure was deafening.
My father slowly reached out, his thick, calloused index finger touching the edge of the black card as if it were coated in venom. "Callahan..." he whispered, his voice losing all its bluster. "Ethan Callahan? You’re mixed up with them, Rachel?"
"I’m not mixed up with anyone!" I hissed, my hands shaking as I held Sophie tighter against my chest. "I sat next to him on an airplane! He didn't even know who I was until we landed!"
"People like that don't send hitmen to wedding receptions just because you sat next to them on a plane," my father snarled, standing up so fast his plastic chair scraped violently against the floor. "You’re bringing filth into this family, Rachel. Just like I always knew you would."
He turned on his heel and stormed out of the parish hall, slamming the side door behind him.
Chloe rushed over, her face pale beneath her bridal makeup. "Rach... what just happened? Was that guy... was that a Callahan enforcer?"
"I need to go," I whispered, tears finally spilling over my lashes. "Chloe, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry for ruining your reception."
"You didn't ruin anything," Chloe said, grabbing my hands. "Dad is just an old jerk who doesn't know how to mind his own business. But... Rach, be careful. If Ethan Callahan is noticing you, you’re playing in a very dangerous league."
Twenty minutes later, I was standing outside the parish hall in the cold autumn wind, trying to figure out how to call an Uber with my dying phone battery, when a black Maybach glided silently to the curb.
The rear door opened automatically.
Ethan sat inside, wearing a dark turtleneck and a wool blazer, looking through a stack of tablet reports. He looked up as the cool air rushed into the car, his eyes locking onto my tear-stained face.
"Get in, Rachel," he said quietly.
I didn't argue. I climbed into the backseat, collapsing against the plush leather, completely drained of energy. Marcus slid into the front passenger seat, and the car pulled away instantly.
"Your father has a remarkable talent for alienating the people who care about him," Ethan observed, his voice disturbingly calm as he handed me a fresh linen handkerchief.
I took it, wiping my eyes. "You had my father investigated?"
"I had my security team monitor your safety perimeter," Ethan corrected smoothly. "When an agitated man starts screaming at a nursing mother in a public venue, my people intervene. It’s what they do."
"He’s my father," I muttered bitterly. "He’s an old-school dockworker who thinks the world is out to get him."
"He’s a bitter man who projects his own failures onto his daughters," Ethan replied without looking up from his tablet. "You don't owe him explanations, Rachel. And you certainly don't owe him your dignity."
The car drove north, leaving the industrial grime of Cicero behind as we crossed the Chicago River and headed toward the Gold Coast. The buildings grew grander, the streets cleaner, and the trees heavier with golden autumn leaves.
Eventually, the Maybach turned through a pair of wrought-iron gates adorned with intricate bronze crests, gliding up a long, curving drive flanked by manicured boxwood hedges. At the end of the drive stood a magnificent limestone mansion overlooking Lake Michigan—an estate that looked more like a European museum than a private residence.
"Where are we?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as the car came to a stop.
"My home," Ethan said simply, opening his door. "You aren't staying in a rundown motel near the expressway while my name is attached to your safety. Marcus will have your bags retrieved from your sister’s apartment. You and Sophie are staying here until you fly back to L.A."
"Ethan, I can't stay at your house!" I protested, stepping out of the car into the crisp lake breeze. "What will people say? What are your associates going to think when they see a broke waitress and a baby staying in a fortress?"
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Ethan walked around the car, stopping just inches away from me. His imposing height and quiet authority were overwhelming, yet his gaze remained steady and reassuring.
"Let them think whatever they like," he said softly. "In my world, people spend their entire lives trying to figure out who I’m keeping close. Let them wonder about you."
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