Chapter 2 - Whispers in the Orphanage Corridor
The letter inside was written on two folded sheets of yellow legal paper, the margins crowded with Claire's neat, hurried script. The ink had smeared slightly at the bottom of the first page, as though moisture had dropped onto it while she wrote.
Michael,
If you're reading this, it means God answered a prayer I wasn't sure I had the right to make. It means you saw Emma. Look at her nose, Michael. Look at her stubborn chin. She has your temper when she’s tired, but she has the gentlest heart in this world.
I never hated you for leaving us in Chicago. You were drowning in that life, and you thought you were protecting me by running away. But you didn't protect us, Michael. You just left us unguarded.
Six months after you left, the Moretti family figured out who I was. Dominic Moretti never forgave you for stealing his distribution routes in Illinois. He couldn't reach you in New York without starting a full-scale mafia war, so he waited. He watched me give birth in a public clinic. He let me raise our daughter alone in fear, letting the debt pile up until he could use her as leverage.
My vision blurred with pure, blinding rage. Dominic Moretti. The Chicago boss whose docks I had seized five years ago before making my jump to New York. I believed he had accepted the loss after our sit-down. I believed the beef was dead.
Instead, the coward had stalked a defenseless woman and an innocent child.
When Dominic’s men finally kicked my door down last winter, the letter continued, I realized they didn't just want ransom. Dominic found out about your expansion into the Brooklyn navy yards. He planned to take Emma, hold her in an undisclosed location, and force you to surrender your entire syndicate before executing all three of us.
I grabbed Emma, took the cash I had hidden inside her baby mattress, and ran. I’ve been living in shelters, taking odd jobs under fake names, moving every three weeks. But Dominic’s enforcers are closing in. A man named Victor Vance has been spotted near our boarding house.
Victor Vance. Dominic's premier hitman. A sociopath who left no survivors.
I have to lead them away from New York, Michael. I’m heading north toward the Canadian border to draw Victor off her trail. If you are reading this, please don't let our daughter grow up an orphan. Don't let my sacrifice be for nothing. Be the man I always knew you could be.
Love always,
Claire.
""Mr. Rivers?"" Evelyn's voice broke my trance.
I slowly folded the letter and tucked it into the inner breast pocket of my suit, right against my chest. My hands were no longer shaking; they were cold as marble. The panic had burned away, replaced by an ancient, predatory fury.
""Daddy, are you sad?"" Emma asked, looking up into my face. Her wide brown eyes were filled with an innocence that had no business existing in the dark world I inhabited.
I smoothed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, bending down until our foreheads touched. ""No, my sweet girl. Daddy is just making a promise.""
""What kind of promise?""
""A promise that you will never have to be scared or hide ever again,"" I said softly.
I stood up, holding Emma securely on my hip, and turned toward the door. Marcus was already waiting in the hallway, his posture alert, his hand hovering near his concealed holster.
""Marcus,"" I said as we stepped into the corridor.
""Yes, Boss?""
""Cancel all meetings with the council today. Mobilize our entire intelligence network from here to Buffalo. I want eyes on every train station, bus depot, and motel near the Canadian border.""
May you like
Marcus blinked, surprised by the sudden order. ""Who are we hunting, Mr. Rivers?""
""We're not hunting,"" I replied, my voice echoing off the sterile walls of the children's home. ""We're staging a rescue. Dominic Moretti sent Victor Vance into my city. Tell our captains that by midnight, I want Vance's head on a silver platter, and I want Claire Bennett brought home alive.""
