Chapter 7 - Whispers Across The Atlantic
Three weeks had passed since the night the Maybach pulled away from Via della Scala, and my life in Rome had settled into a chaotic, beautiful rhythm.
Working alongside Gina in the bakery from dawn until early afternoon kept my hands busy and my mind occupied. Maya had already picked up enough conversational Italian to charm the local fruit vendors into giving her extra strawberries, and the dark bruise on my jawline had long since faded into clear skin.
Yet, despite the safety of the ancient neighborhood, the Atlantic Ocean wasn't wide enough to completely erase the ghost of my past.
It happened on a warm Tuesday morning while I was wiping down the front marble counter of the bakery. The little brass bell above the door chimed, signaling the entry of a customer. I didn't look up immediately, busy arranging a fresh batch of warm cornetti on a silver tray.
"Buongiorno! Welcome to Forno de Luca, what can I—"
The words died in my throat.
Standing in the center of the sunlit bakery wasn't a local regular or a tourist craving espresso. It was a tall, sharply dressed man in a dark tailored suit that screamed American corporate lawyer. Behind him stood two burly local men whose cold, calculating eyes scanned the exits with practiced precision.
It wasn't Richard—he would never leave his high-rise office in Columbus to chase me personally—but it was his chief legal bulldog, Harrison Vance (no relation to the senator, though equally ruthless).
"Clara Hayes," Harrison said smoothly, stepping closer to the counter with a predatory smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Or should I say, fugitive from justice?"
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought my chest would crack. My hands gripped the edge of the marble counter, my knuckles turning stark white.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, forcing my voice to remain steady, though a cold sweat broke out across my spine. "How did you find me?"
Harrison pulled a manila folder from under his arm and laid it leisurely on the glass display case. "Richard loves his wife, Clara. And more importantly, Richard loves his control. You think hopping on a budget flight to Italy with a toddler and a handful of euros would throw off a man with multi-million-dollar assets and private investigators in every major European capital?"
"I filed for emergency separation," I said, my voice trembling with suppressed rage. "I have documentation of his abuse—"
May you like
"You have unverified medical records from a regional hospital in Ohio," Harrison interrupted, his tone dismissive and icy. "Easily contested. Easily dismissed by a judge on Richard’s payroll. Right now, you are facing felony interstate child abduction charges for fleeing the jurisdiction with a minor without written parental consent."
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. The warm smell of fresh pastries suddenly turned sickeningly sweet, and the bright Roman sunlight felt like a cage closing in around me.
