Chapter 7 - THE TOWER ON THE LAKE
The Fierro estate was not a mansion; it was a fortress carved from limestone and glass, towering over the dark, churning expanse of Lake Michigan.
High perimeter walls topped with discreet camera housings swept open as the motorcade approached, shutting out the rest of the world the moment the cars cleared the iron gates.
Giovanni guided Jessica through a grand foyer lined with polished granite and minimalist Italian sculpture. A elderly housekeeper in a sharp dark uniform bowed her head respectfully as they entered.
"Good evening, Mr. Fierro. The guest wing is prepared," she said warmly.
"Thank you, Elena. Please bring hot tea and clean clothes for Miss Hale," Giovanni instructed smoothly.
He led Jessica into a massive private library with two-story floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the black horizon of the lake. A fire crackled in a broad stone fireplace, casting deep orange light across rows of leather-bound volumes.
Jessica walked toward the fire, finally letting out a long, ragged breath. She looked down at her feet and carefully kicked off her cheap heels. The glued left pump gave way entirely, dropping to the Persian rug in two pieces.
A low, rare sound came from behind her.
Jessica turned. Giovanni was standing near his mahogany desk, a faint, genuine smirk touching his lips—the first real emotion she had seen on his face all night.
"Your shoe didn't survive the escape," he noted, his voice laced with quiet humor.
"It survived long enough to walk out on Tyler," Jessica said, a small, weary smile breaking through her exhaustion. "That's all that mattered."
Giovanni’s smirk faded into something deeper, more contemplative. He poured two fingers of amber liquid into a crystal tumbler, but didn't drink.
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"You didn't cry," he observed. "Most women in your position, after being publicly humiliated by an ex-husband and a cousin, would have broken down the moment the car doors closed."
"I spent twelve hours yesterday holding the hand of a four-year-old boy waking up from open-heart surgery," Jessica said, her brown eyes steady and unyielding. "I don't have tears left for Tyler Vance."
