Chapter 2
The silence of the grand marble hallway was suddenly shattered by the rapid, rhythmic patter of tiny footsteps.
Adrien stopped dead in his tracks. His broad shoulders tensed under his black suit jacket. His intense gray eyes narrowed, scanning the immaculate corridor. For a split second, his mind, conditioned by decades of mafia warfare, calculated the threat. But the sound was entirely wrong. It wasn't the heavy footfalls of an assassin. It sounded like... a child.
From behind a towering marble column, a tiny girl suddenly burst out and ran directly across Adrien’s path.
She could not have been more than three years old. She was a beautiful little brunette with fair, rosy skin and a wild halo of soft curls bouncing around her shoulders. She wore a bright pink party dress that billowed around her knees, one white sock pulled neatly up to her calf, while the other had fallen in a crumpled mess around her tiny ankle.
Adrien stood frozen in sheer disbelief. Children did not exist in his world. Children certainly did not run freely in the secured, highly restricted corridors of his mansion at midnight.
The little girl skidded to a halt on the slick marble, her small shoes squeaking. She turned around and looked up at the towering, intimidating mafia boss. Her bright brown eyes were wide with innocent curiosity. She did not see a monster. She did not see the man who controlled Chicago’s underworld.
To the absolute horror of the servants pressed against the walls, the little girl smiled directly at him. It was a radiant, fearless smile.
"What are you doing here?" Adrien asked, his deep voice dropping to a harsh, confused whisper.
The little girl giggled, a bright, musical sound that felt entirely alien in the oppressive luxury of the mansion. She spun playfully on one foot, her pink dress flaring out around her, and then she began running backward down the length of the grand hallway, keeping her bright eyes locked on Adrien's face.
"Catch me if you can!" she yelled out, her high-pitched, playful voice echoing off the crystal chandeliers and the vaulted ceilings.
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Adrien stared at her, completely stunned. For the first time in perhaps twenty years, Adrien Moretti had absolutely no idea what to do. His natural micro-expressions flickered—confusion, shock, and a strange, unfamiliar hesitation. No one, not even his most trusted lieutenants, spoke to him with such reckless audacity.
"Hey! I said catch me!" the little girl demanded, giggling again as she stopped and put her hands on her hips, completely unafraid of the dark, imposing figure standing before her.
