Chapter 1 - Shadows in the Rearview Mirror
“Who are they?” Madison whispered, her fingers curling tightly around the edges of the high-thread-count duvet.
Roman DeLuca did not blink as he tapped the tablet screen, freezing the frame on the second man standing under the flickering neon sign of the diner. The man wore a tailored charcoal wool coat, a scarred brow, and a heavy signet ring bearing a coiled viper.
“That’s Victor Vance,” Roman said, his voice flat, completely stripped of warmth. “Head enforcer for the Morretti syndicate. Five years ago, when your father vanished into thin air with six point eight million dollars and a black encrypted ledger, Vance took the blame from the bosses. He spent three years in a maximum-security federal penitentiary because your father was smarter than everyone in the room. Vance got out nine months ago. He doesn’t want an apology, Madison. He wants his pound of flesh, and he intends to carve it out of the only living Brooks left in the city of Chicago.”
Madison stared at the frozen image on the screen, a cold dread washing down the back of her neck. Her father, Daniel Brooks, had been a quiet man with grease stains on his cheap ties and ink smudges across his fingers. He drove a rusted sedan, clipped coupons from Sunday papers, and drank instant black coffee at dawn. How could a mild-mannered accountant cross a brutal cartel?
“My father couldn't steal six million dollars,” she insisted, her voice trembling despite her best efforts to remain steady. “He was terrified of parking tickets, Roman! He had heart palpitations when the water bill went over sixty bucks. You’re lying to me to keep me trapped in your gilded prison.”
Roman leaned forward, closing the space between them. The scent of cedarwood, bitter espresso, and raw iron rolled over her senses. “A man who steals from lions does not dress like a lion, Madison. He dresses like a mouse. Daniel Brooks played all of us. He played my father, he played the Morretti family, and he played the United States Attorney’s office. But the ledger contains routing numbers, offshore blind trusts, and political kickbacks spanning three administrations. If Vance gets that book, half the city burns down. If Vance gets you, he’ll use you to force Daniel out of hiding.”
“He’s dead!” Madison shouted, tears burning behind her eyelids. “We had a memorial service! There was an empty casket in Oakridge Cemetery!”
“Then explain why your father’s personal offshore Swiss account transferred fifty thousand dollars into your landlord’s private trust last week to cover your rent for the next five years?” Roman asked softly, dropping a printed financial ledger onto the mattress.
Madison’s breath hitched in her throat. She looked down at the paper. There it was: an anonymous wire transfer originating from Zurich, signed with a single digitized initials: D.B. Her head spun violently, the residual fever colliding with the crushing reality that her entire adult life had been built upon a masterfully orchestrated lie.
“I didn't ask for this,” she whispered, burying her face in trembling hands.
“None of us get to choose the fire we’re born into,” Roman said, his voice lowering to a quiet rumble. “You have two options right now, Madison. You can walk through those front double doors. My security guards won’t touch you. But before you reach the outer iron gates of Lake Forest, Vance’s scouts will ram your cab off the asphalt and drag you into an unmarked van. Or you stay here, drink the broth my housekeeper prepared, swallow your antibiotics, and let me protect the only piece of Daniel Brooks I have left.”
May you like
Madison lifted her tear-streaked face, staring into Roman’s piercing gray eyes. “Why do you care so much about Daniel Brooks?”
Roman’s jaw hardened, a muscle ticking beneath his sharp cheekbone. “Because before your father stole the money, he saved my life during a warehouse shootout when I was eighteen years old. I owe him a debt. And DeLucas always pay their debts, no matter how much blood it costs.”
