Chapter 9 - The Last Thing Ethan Gave Me
Six months later, Chicago looked different.
Maybe the city hadn’t changed.
Maybe I had.
Dominic Varela awaited trial on charges connected to murder, kidnapping, racketeering, witness intimidation, and conspiracy.
Several corrupt officers were indicted.
My father lived twenty minutes from me and attended physical therapy three days a week.
We were learning each other again.
Slowly.
Luca and I were learning too.
Dating a man like Luca DeLuca was not normal.
Our third date was interrupted because a federal attorney needed his signature.
Our fourth involved Victor sitting twenty feet away pretending not to watch us.
By our fifth, I finally turned around in the restaurant.
“Victor.”
He lowered his menu.
“Yes?”
“Go home.”
“I’m working.”
“You’re holding the menu upside down.”
He looked at it.
Luca laughed so hard he nearly spilled his wine.
Eventually, things became quieter.
Luca sold two nightclubs associated with his uncle’s old operations.
He expanded his legitimate construction company.
He created a foundation for emergency housing.
He refused to name it after himself.
Instead, he called it the Samuel Price Fund.
The program paid for secure temporary housing for people fleeing domestic violence.
When he told me, I cried.
He panicked.
“I can change the name.”
I laughed through tears.
“That isn’t why I’m crying.”
“I’m still learning the difference.”
“I know.”
Ethan pleaded guilty to several charges in exchange for testimony against Dominic.
I visited him once.
Not because he asked.
Because I needed to close a door.
He looked smaller behind prison glass.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The power he had held over me existed only in memory now.
“I heard about you and DeLuca,” he said.
I said nothing.
“He’ll hurt you eventually.”
“No.”
“You don’t know men like him.”
I almost smiled.
“I know men like you.”
His jaw tightened.
“I loved you.”
“You loved controlling me.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“Fair?”
I studied him.
“Do you know what I remember most about that night?”
His eyes lowered.
“The rain?”
“No.”
I leaned closer to the glass.
“I remember asking strangers for help and watching them drive away.”
He swallowed.
“And then Luca stopped.”
“He wanted something.”
“Yes.”
Ethan looked almost triumphant.
I continued.
“He wanted to know whether I was safe.”
His expression collapsed.
I stood.
“I don’t hate you anymore.”
Hope appeared in his eyes.
It vanished when I finished.
“I just don’t need you anymore.”
I walked away.
At the door, a guard called after me.
“Ms. Bennett.”
I turned.
Ethan was holding something against the glass.
An envelope.
“He says it belongs to you.”
Inside was an old photograph.
My father.
My mother.
Me at sixteen.
Someone had photographed us from across the street.
On the back, Samuel had written:
Michael kept them alive. Someday, tell Claire her father never abandoned her.
I cried in my car for twenty minutes.
Then I called Dad.
That evening, Luca found me sitting beside Lake Michigan.
He sat beside me without speaking.
I handed him the photograph.
He read the note.
“My whole life,” I whispered, “I thought Dad left pieces of himself behind because he didn’t love us enough.”
Luca took my hand.
“He disappeared because he loved you.”
“I know that now.”
The lake rolled black beneath the city lights.
After a while, Luca said, “I need to tell you something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“The first night I saw you…”
“Yes?”
“I was going to a meeting with Dominic.”
I turned.
“What?”
“He had asked me to meet him.”
“On West Addison?”
“Yes.”
“You were going to meet the man who killed your father without knowing he killed your father.”
“Yes.”
A chill moved through me.
“If you hadn’t stopped for me…”
“I would have arrived.”
“What would’ve happened?”
“Police later found explosives at the meeting location.”
I stared at him.
Dominic had planned to kill Luca that night.
The convoy had been delayed because of me.
Because I stepped into the street.
Because Luca stopped.
“You saved my life,” he said.
I shook my head.
“You saved mine.”
“Maybe.”
He squeezed my hand.
“Maybe we stopped for each other.”
For several moments, neither of us spoke.
Then he reached inside his coat.
My heart stopped.
“Luca.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“What?”
“If that’s a ring, I’m throwing you into the lake.”
He stared at me.
Then slowly removed—
A set of keys.
I covered my face.
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
“What did you think I was doing?”
“Nothing.”
“You thought I was proposing.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You threatened to drown me.”
“Show me the keys.”
Still grinning, he placed them in my hand.
“Samuel House.”
“What’s Samuel House?”
“The foundation bought a building.”
He pointed behind us.
Across the street stood a renovated brick building.
“Twenty-four apartments,” he said. “Secure entrances. Childcare. Legal assistance. Counseling. Emergency medical support.”
My throat tightened.
“For survivors?”
He nodded.
“I want you to help design the medical program.”
I looked from the building to him.
“You’re offering me a job?”
“I’m asking for your expertise.”
“And if I say no?”
He smiled.
“Then I’ll still take you to dinner.”
I kissed him.
Across the street, a light turned on inside Samuel House for the first time.
Neither of us knew that someone was watching from the opposite sidewalk.
A woman.
Late sixties.
Gray coat.
Tears streaming down her face.
She held an old photograph of Antonio DeLuca.
May you like
And when Luca and I finally walked away, she whispered:
“My son.”
