Chapter 1 - The Whisper in the Dark
Because the baby is his,
Nora whispered into the chilling stillness of the Chicago night.
My hand,
hovering inches from my phone,
froze completely.
The rain lashed against the cracked windowpane of her cramped Lakeview apartment.
Outside,
sirens wailed in the distance.
Inside,
the air smelled of copper,
fear,
and shattered illusions.
Enzo Santoro.
My trusted underboss.
The man who had stood by my side through turf wars,
federal investigations,
and hostile takeovers.
The man who had walked into my penthouse just hours ago,
wearing a brand-new gold watch,
eager to pin a two-and-a-half-million-dollar embezzlement scheme on a terrified,
pregnant woman.
I looked down at Nora.
Her swollen eye throbbed under the dim,
flickering light of a single wall sconce.
The bruises on her delicate wrists bore the unmistakable imprint of thick,
calloused fingers.
Enzo’s fingers.
He hadn't just come to me to frame her.
He had come to silence her.
He knew that if I audited the Meridian Freight accounts personally,
I would eventually trace the missing funds back to his offshore shell companies.
So he orchestrated the theft,
routed the digital footprints through Nora’s terminal to provide an airtight scapegoat,
and then visited her apartment to beat her into submission.
Or worse.
My jaw clenched so tightly I thought my teeth might fracture.
For twenty years,
my rule had been absolute.
Numbers don’t lie.
People do.
But tonight,
the numbers had lied because they were manipulated by a snake hiding inside my own house.
“He didn’t just beat you,
” I said,
my voice dropping to a dangerous,
icy register.
“He thought I was dead,
” Nora sobbed,
her small shoulders trembling.
“He thought I wouldn't survive the night,
” “He told me that if I spoke a single word to you about the offshore accounts,
the baby would never see the light of day.
” I stood up slowly,
towering over her in the cramped room.
My long wool coat swept the floor as I looked down at the woman holding my underboss's unborn child.
She didn't know it yet,
but Enzo had signed his own death warrant the moment he raised a hand against her inside my city.
“Get your coat,
” I commanded softly,
extending a leather-gloved hand toward her.
Nora flinched back,
her eyes wide with terror.
“Where are we going?
” “Not to a hospital,
” I replied,
my gaze hardening like tempered steel.
“And not to the police.
” “We are going to my private safehouse on the Gold Coast.
” “Because by sunrise,
May you like
Enzo Santoro is going to learn what happens when you steal from Dante Moretti.
”
