Chapter 3 - Blood and Secrets
Dawn broke over Lake Michigan in cold shades of slate gray and dull copper. In the expansive dining room of the penthouse, the mahogany table was set with fine porcelain, black coffee, and freshly squeezed juice.
Sitting across from me was Salvatore Costello. He was sixty-eight years old, his silver hair slicked back, wearing a bespoke three-piece suit that failed to disguise the slight tremble in his aging hands. He had arrived accompanied by two bodyguards, both of whom were currently disarmed and standing uncomfortably by the elevator bank under Marco's watchful gaze.
""You summoned me early, Dominic,"" Costello began, forcing a genial smile as he stirred two sugar cubes into his espresso. ""Usually, you prefer business after midday. To what do I owe the urgent hospitality?""
I took a slow sip of my coffee, deliberately letting the silence stretch between us until the clinking of his spoon against the saucer stopped entirely.
""I had guests last night, Sal,"" I said evenly. ""They came through the service elevator at midnight. Victor Vance was among them. Do you happen to know where Victor is right now?""
Costello froze. The color drained from his weathered cheeks, leaving behind an ashen, papery pallor. He tried to laugh, but the sound emerged dry and brittle. ""Victor? He runs independent security contracts, Dominic. If he overstepped his bounds in your territory, handle him as you see fit. You know I don't micromanage every stray dog on the street.""
""He had your private encryption key on his phone, Sal,"" I continued, leaning forward onto my elbows. ""And he had instructions to recover an infant. A little girl.""
Costello set his cup down with a sharp clatter. His facade of grandfatherly warmth evaporated, replaced by the bitter, calculating sneer of a cornered predator. ""So you found her. I wondered how long that pathetic maid would manage to keep her hidden under your arrogant nose.""
""My brother died because of you,"" I said, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. ""Twenty-four years ago, my father suspected a rat on the council, but he couldn't prove it before Gabriel vanished. It was you. You sold the route to the Sicilians.""
""Your father was weak!"" Costello hissed, his voice trembling with long-suppressed venom. ""He wanted to turn our family into bankers and logistics managers! He gave away the street money, the docks, the protection rackets! Gabriel was his golden boy, the one he planned to hand everything to. When Gabriel survived the hit and went into hiding, I spent decades hunting him. When he surfaced last year with that child, I knew the game wasn't over. That child's blood gives her legal claim to the Valente family trust—four hundred million dollars tied up in Swiss escrow that neither you nor I can touch without Gabriel’s direct line!""
""And so you murdered him,"" I said. ""And hunted his infant daughter like an animal.""
""It's business, Dominic!"" Costello snapped, slamming his palm on the table. ""Hand the girl to me. We split the escrow fifty-fifty. We announce she died of natural causes, and we control Chicago together. You don't want a baby tying your hands. You're an empire builder, not a father!""
Before the final word left his lips, the double doors of the dining room swung open.
Sophia walked in. She was dressed in a soft cream cashmere sweater I had ordered for her that morning, her dark hair combed neatly over her shoulders. In her arms she held Ava, who was chewing playfully on the hem of a soft knitted blanket.
Costello's eyes bulged as the little girl let out a cheerful, babbling laugh. She pointed a chubby finger toward the chandelier, completely oblivious to the man who had ordered her parents' execution sitting five feet away.
""You talk about my brother's blood as if it were a balance sheet, Salvatore,"" I said, standing up from my chair and buttoning my suit jacket. ""You forgot one fundamental rule about the Valente family.""
I walked over to Sophia, gently taking Ava into my arms. The little girl rested her cheek against my collarbone, instantly recognizing my scent, her small hand reaching out to tug on my lapel.
""We do not negotiate with the people who kill our own,"" I said, looking Costello dead in the eyes. ""Marco. Call the United States Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois. Hand over the offshore account ledgers we seized from Victor Vance this morning. By noon, every asset Costello owns will be frozen by federal marshals. And by nightfall, the street will know he has no money left to pay his protection.""
May you like
Costello rose in a blind panic, knocking his chair backward onto the floor. ""You wouldn't! That exposes the council! It ruins us all!""
""It ruins you,"" I corrected softly. ""I have twenty-two years of clean federal audits, Sal. You have twenty-two hours before you are arrested or put down by your own creditors. Get out of my home.""
