Chapter 7
The freezing Chicago wind bit through Michael’s tailored navy-blue suit, but he barely felt the cold. The heavy snow swirled around the grand estate, blanketing the manicured lawns in pristine white. He held Renee tight against his chest, using his broad shoulders to shield her fragile body from the biting chill as they rapidly approached his idling black Maybach parked in the circular driveway.
The driver, a former military operative named Marcus, immediately stepped out into the snow, pulling open the heavy rear door. Marcus took one look at Michael’s hardened face and the tear-stained child in his arms, and asked no questions.
Michael slid into the luxurious, heated leather interior, settling Renee securely onto his lap. Marcus shut the door, sealing them in absolute silence, away from the roaring wind and the toxic mansion they had just fled.
"Where to, Mr. DeLuca?" Marcus asked from the front seat, glancing in the rearview mirror.
"The downtown penthouse, Marcus," Michael replied, his voice still vibrating with suppressed fury. "And lock the doors. No one gets in."
The heavy vehicle accelerated smoothly down the long driveway, leaving the glowing blue-and-gold lights of the DeLuca estate behind.
In the backseat, the warmth of the car slowly thawed Renee. She unburied her face from Michael’s pale-blue dress shirt and looked up at him. Her big expressive eyes were tired, the pale-blue ribbon in her long wavy hair slightly crooked. She rested her small hand against his gray vest.
"Daddy?" Renee whispered, her tender voice hesitant. "Why was Grandpa yelling?"
Michael looked down at the sweet, fragile little girl. The overwhelming realization that she was his biological daughter—that she carried his blood, and the blood of the woman he loved—sent a profound ache through his chest. He gently brushed a light-brown curl away from her forehead.
"Grandpa and Grandma made a very bad mistake a long time ago, sweetheart," Michael explained softly, his intense eyes softening completely. "And they lied about it. But you never have to see them again. I promise you."
"Are we going home?" she asked, her innocence breaking his heart all over again.
"Yes, baby," Michael murmured, kissing the top of her head. "We are going home. And no one is ever going to make you wash a dish or feel bad ever again. You are the most important person in the world to me."
Renee smiled, a small, weary expression of pure relief. She rested her head against his chest, the rhythmic beating of his heart lulling her into a deep, exhausted sleep within minutes.
Michael held her close, watching the snowy Chicago skyline approach through the tinted windows. Once he was certain she was asleep, he reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his encrypted smartphone. His sharp features hardened back into the ruthless, commanding billionaire.
He dialed a private number. The line rang twice before a sharp voice answered.
May you like
"Yes, Michael?"
"Call the legal team, David," Michael ordered his lead attorney, his voice ice-cold. "I want an emergency injunction filed against Anthony and Carmen DeLuca by 8:00 AM. Fraud, extortion, and illegal adoption practices. We are going to war."
