Chapter 2 - The Midnight Knock
By eleven-thirty, the top floor of Valente Tower had become a fortress of absolute silence. Every exterior light was extinguished, casting long, predatory shadows across the Carrara marble floors.
Sophia sat tucked inside the reinforced panic room behind my walk-in closet, holding Ava against her chest. I had checked on them five minutes prior. The infant was sound asleep, lulled by a warm bottle, while Sophia’s knuckles were white as bone as she clutched the silver rosary around her neck. I had assured her she was safe, but fear like hers did not vanish with promises; it vanished only when the threat was buried six feet under concrete.
Out in the grand corridor, I stood alone in the dim ambient glow filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Chicago sprawled beneath me like an intricate grid of gold and black veins. Standing beside me in the shadows was Marco, my head of personal security and the only man alive who had guarded both my father and me for thirty uninterrupted years.
""Thermal imaging shows three men entering the service stairwell on sixty-four,"" Marco murmured, his voice barely a rasp. ""They bypassed the lobby guards with cloned security keycards. High-level clearance, boss. Internal.""
""The council,"" I stated coldly, not even batting an eye. ""Sal Costello thinks because my father is dead and my legitimate business holdings look clean, my teeth have grown blunt.""
""Costello always was an impatient dog,"" Marco replied, checking the chamber of his suppressed firearm with practiced ease. ""He’s been trying to force an emergency syndicate vote for six months. If he knew Gabriel had an heir, he’d eliminate her immediately to prevent any lawful claim to the offshore trusts.""
A soft, mechanical click echoed down the service corridor. The fire door swung open an inch.
I didn't move. I remained stationed right under the crystal chandelier, hands resting casually inside the pockets of my tailored trousers, watching the door widen. Three men slipped into the corridor like wraiths, dressed in tactical dark coats, gloved hands holding silenced automatics.
The man in the lead was tall, wiry, with a scarred jawline that I recognized immediately: Victor Vance, Costello’s personal butcher.
When Victor stepped into the main hall and saw me standing there under the pale marble arches—not asleep, not unarmed, and completely unsurprised—his entire posture stiffened. The barrel of his weapon twitched upward, but before it could clear my waistline, Marco’s laser sight painted a bright red dot directly between Victor’s eyebrows. Four more red dots appeared on his companions’ chests from the shadowed corners of the gallery.
""You're late, Victor,"" I said, my voice echoing smoothly off the vaulted ceiling. ""The service elevator was unlocked for you. Taking the stairs at your age seems unnecessary.""
Victor swallowed hard, the arrogance draining from his face like dirty water down a drain. ""Mr. Valente. There's... been a misunderstanding.""
""There is no misunderstanding,"" I took two slow steps forward, the heels of my shoes clicking sharply against the stone. ""You entered my private residence armed, seeking an infant child who carries my blood. Did you truly believe Salvatore Costello could protect you from me?""
""We didn't know the kid was yours, Dominic!"" one of the goons behind Victor blurted out in panic. ""Costello told us she was a loose end from a rogue courier—""
A single muted crack cut the man off. Marco had fired. The speaker dropped instantly to the floor, clutching his shattered kneecap, groaning in agony as blood pooled across the white stone.
Victor raised both hands slowly, his weapon clattering to the floor. ""Dominic, please. Let's talk. We were just following orders. Costello said if we brought the child, he’d grant us twenty percent of the Calumet docks—""
""You came into my home to murder a nine-month-old baby,"" I said, stopping inches from his face. My gaze locked onto his eyes with the cold finality of an iron cage. ""You do not get to speak her name, and you certainly do not get to negotiate.""
May you like
I signaled to Marco. ""Take them down to the sub-basement. Strip them of all communication devices. Make sure they are kept alive long enough to tell Salvatore Costello that his invitation to breakfast tomorrow morning is mandatory.""
As Marco’s men dragged the intruders away, leaving a smear of crimson that would require heavy scrubbing, I stood alone in the quiet corridor. The silence returned, but the danger had only just begun. The wolves had sniffed out the scent of a child, and until Costello’s empire was dismantled, neither Sophia nor Ava would ever know peace.
