Chapter 6 - THE RETURN TO LIAM
The yellow cab dropped Elizabeth off two blocks away from her apartment building in a gritty, working-class neighborhood on the Near West Side. She didn't want the driver pulling right up to Liam’s building—she needed time to breathe, time to walk off the overwhelming adrenaline crash that was turning her muscles to jelly.
By the time she pushed open the heavy front door of the apartment, the hallway smelled of burnt toast and Liam’s cheap fabric softener.
“Emma? Is that you?” Liam’s voice called out from the tiny kitchen.
A second later, Liam appeared in the doorway holding a spatula, wearing grease-stained jeans and a grey t-shirt. His brow was furrowed in deep concern.
“Where the hell have you been?” Liam demanded, stepping forward and wiping his hands on a dishtowel. “Ruby called the apartment an hour ago asking why you walked out in the middle of your shift without telling anyone. She said some guy in a three-piece suit practically escorted you out like a VIP prisoner!”
Elizabeth leaned back against the closed front door, closing her eyes as a wave of exhaustion hit her like a physical blow.
“It’s a long story, Liam,” she whispered, sliding down the door until she was sitting on the worn linoleum floor, pulling her knees up to her chest.
Liam’s expression instantly softened. He dropped the dishtowel, rushed across the small living room, and dropped to his knees right in front of her.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Liam asked, his voice full of brotherly panic. “Did that guy hurt you? Is it about... you know, the baby’s father?”
Elizabeth looked up at her oldest friend, her eyes swimming with tears she had been holding back all day.
“Liam... he found me,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “Alessandro Vitali tracked me down to the diner today.”
Liam’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. His hands balled into tight fists. “That rich son of a bitch. Do you want me to go have a talk with him? I swear to God, if he laid a finger on you—”
“No, no, he didn't hurt me physically,” Elizabeth interrupted, shaking her head frantically. “He brought me to his penthouse. He interrogated me. And Liam... that’s not even the worst part.”
“What’s the worst part?”
Elizabeth swallowed hard, her voice dropping to a terrified whisper. “The pregnancy test is positive. I’m six weeks pregnant with Alessandro Vitali’s child. And if he ever finds out the truth—if he finds out who I really am and why my family had to run—he’s going to take my baby away from me.”
Liam went completely still. The anger in his eyes vanished, replaced by a dark, grim realization of the danger they were in.
“Listen to me, El,” Liam said, his voice deadly serious as he gripped her shoulders. “We are going to pack a bag tonight. We’re leaving Chicago. We’ll go to Milwaukee, or Denver, or somewhere out west where his money and his private security goons can’t reach us. You hear me? We run.”
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Elizabeth stared at her best friend, knowing in her heart how impossible that dream was. Men like Alessandro Vitali didn't lose what they hunted. And as she looked toward the bathroom down the hall, where the pregnancy test was still hidden in the vanity drawer, a cold dread settled over her soul.
They couldn't run forever. And time was running out.
