CHAPTER 2 – THE WORDS THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
CHAPTER 2 – THE WORDS THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING
The shard of glass slipped just enough for the candlelight to catch its razor edge.
No one breathed.
Not the diners.
Not the bodyguards.
Not even Dominic Moretti.
Ava's lips trembled.
Then, barely louder than the rain pounding against the windows, she whispered,
"He says Mommy deserved to die."
Dominic's face turned white.
Not pale.
Empty.
For one terrifying heartbeat, the most feared man in Chicago looked less like a crime boss and more like a father whose entire world had collapsed.
Every bodyguard reached beneath his jacket.
Weapons clicked free.
One of them barked into an earpiece.
"Lock down every entrance."
Another spun toward the kitchen.
"Nobody leaves!"
The restaurant erupted into panic.
Customers shoved back their chairs.
Someone screamed.
Crystal shattered as a waiter dropped an entire tray of wine.
I never took my eyes off Ava.
She still held the broken glass, but her hand wasn't aimed at anyone anymore.
It was shaking so violently that I wondered how she hadn't already cut herself.
Dominic spoke carefully.
"Ava..."
She flinched.
"Don't."
His voice cracked.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You do!" she cried.
"I hear him!"
Her tiny hands flew to her ears.
"He comes every night!"
The room froze again.
One of the older waitresses quietly crossed herself.
A businessman whispered,
"Is she... seeing ghosts?"
Dominic closed his eyes for exactly one second.
When he opened them again, the ruthless mafia boss had returned.
"Everyone out."
Nobody argued.
His men immediately began escorting every customer toward the exits.
Within two minutes, Valentino's elegant dining room looked more like a crime scene than a restaurant.
Only a handful of people remained.
Dominic.
His security team.
Me.
And one terrified little girl kneeling among broken glass.
One bodyguard leaned toward Dominic.
"Sir... should we call Dr. Levin again?"
"No."
"She hasn't slept in four days."
"I said no."
Another guard lowered his voice.
"She's getting worse."
Ava suddenly screamed.
"STOP TALKING ABOUT ME!"
The broken glass flew from her hand.
I lunged without thinking.
The shard skidded across the floor instead of into someone's leg.
Ava collapsed onto her knees.
Then she started crying.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Small.
Hopeless.
The kind of crying that sounded like she'd been holding it inside for months.
I ignored every warning in my head and slowly sat down on the polished hardwood floor a few feet away.
Expensive restaurants weren't designed for waitresses to sit on the ground.
I didn't care.
Neither did she.
After nearly a minute of silence, I spoke.
"Can I ask you something?"
No answer.
"When you say you hear him..."
She stared at the floor.
"...does everyone else think you're lying?"
Her shoulders stiffened.
Then she nodded.
Once.
Very slowly.
A familiar ache tightened in my chest.
Years ago, after my mother began chemotherapy, the medication sometimes made her confused.
Neighbors whispered.
Doctors rushed appointments.
People assumed she was imagining things because it was easier than listening.
Sometimes the loneliest place in the world was being surrounded by adults who refused to believe you.
I looked at Ava.
Maybe she knew that feeling too.
"I believe that you're hearing something," I said quietly.
"I don't know what it is yet."
"But I believe that it's real to you."
Ava looked up.
For the first time since entering the restaurant...
The fear in her eyes eased.
Only slightly.
But enough.
Dominic noticed.
His expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
Confusion.
Suspicion.
Hope.
Then Ava whispered,
"You're the first person who's ever said that."
Silence filled the restaurant.
One of the bodyguards muttered under his breath,
"Impossible..."
Dominic walked closer.
Not toward me.
Toward his daughter.
Slowly.
Like approaching a wounded animal.
"Ava..."
She didn't run.
That alone seemed to shock everyone.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
She looked at him without speaking.
"I don't know how to help you."
Her lips quivered.
"I miss Mommy."
His breathing caught.
"So do I."
The words sounded painfully honest.
For a second, father and daughter simply looked at one another.
No empire.
No money.
No bodyguards.
Just grief.
Then everything shattered again.
The restaurant lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The entire building plunged into darkness.
Someone shouted.
"Power's out!"
Emergency lights failed to activate.
The only illumination came from distant flashes of lightning outside.
Dominic's men instantly formed a protective circle.
"Guns up!"
Metal clicked in every direction.
Ava screamed.
"HE'S HERE!"
Her voice echoed through the darkness.
Heavy footsteps thundered somewhere near the kitchen.
Not one pair.
Several.
A bodyguard yelled,
"Movement!"
A gunshot exploded.
The sound was deafening inside the restaurant.
Customers outside shrieked.
Glass shattered near the entrance.
Another gunshot answered from somewhere deeper inside the building.
Then a third.
Someone cried out in pain.
"South entrance breached!"
Dominic grabbed Ava and pulled her behind an overturned table.
His eyes found me through the darkness.
"Get down!"
I hit the floor just as another bullet ripped through the dining room window.
Rain and shattered glass burst inward.
The bodyguards returned fire.
The elegant restaurant transformed into a battlefield within seconds.
Smoke drifted through the air.
Car alarms began screaming outside.
One wounded guard stumbled backward, clutching his shoulder.
"They knew we'd be here..."
Dominic's expression became ice.
"No."
He looked slowly around the room.
"They knew she would be here."
Every eye turned toward Ava.
She was curled into herself, covering her ears.
Still crying.
Still whispering.
"He's angry..."
"He's coming..."
Then she looked directly at me.
Not her father.
Me.
Her frightened voice barely carried above the chaos.
"Emily..."
I crawled toward her.
"What is it?"
She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength.
"They're not trying to kill Daddy."
I felt my blood run cold.
Her terrified eyes filled with tears.
May you like
"They came..."
"...for me."
