Chapter 3 - Blood Under the Microscope
Dr. Julian Vance, my family’s private physician whose loyalty was forged over three decades, packed his sterile centrifuge kit onto the mahogany coffee table in my private study. It was three in the morning. Outside, sheets of driving rain battered the floor-to-ceiling bay windows overlooking Lake Michigan.
""The results are unequivocal, Marcus,"" Julian said softly, sliding three sheets of laser-printed genetic profiles toward me. He didn't use medical jargon; he knew better than to mince words with a man on the edge of a precipice. ""Lily and Emma are monozygotic twins. Identical DNA markers across all twenty-four chromosomal loci. Furthermore, the mitochondrial DNA pulled from Emma's buccal swab matches Grace’s preserved records down to the tenth decimal place.""
I stared at the black-and-white graphs. ""They're identical.""
""Biologically, yes,"" Julian adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. ""Phenotypically, you’re seeing slight variations due to extreme environmental disparity. Lily has received world-class nutrition, specialized pediatric care, and complete protection. Emma shows marked signs of chronic nutritional deprivation, early-stage rickets in her lower shins, and micro-fractures in her left forearm that healed without medical intervention. Whoever raised her didn't have money for a county clinic.""
A heavy knock sounded at the mahogany door. Viktor entered, his dark trench coat dripping water onto the Persian rug. He leaned down, speaking low. ""Sal just called an emergency council meeting at the meatpacking warehouse on 47th Street. He claims three of our eastern supply trucks were intercepted by federal marshals. He’s calling for a vote of no confidence against your leadership, saying your grief over Grace’s anniversary is making you careless.""
""He’s moving early,"" I said, sliding the genetic papers into an inner pocket of my tailored suit. ""He knows the old woman slipped Emma out of Gary. He knows that if Emma reaches me, the drive reaches me. He thinks he has to cut my throat tonight or face the firing squad tomorrow.""
""We have forty men mobilized in the motor pool,"" Viktor said, his fingers brushing the hilt of his combat blade. ""We can hit the warehouse with heavy ordnance and level the entire city block.""
""No,"" I replied, standing up and fastening the top button of my charcoal jacket. ""That makes a martyr out of a snake. The five families of Chicago run on an ancient code. Treason against an underboss requires evidence shown before the council, or the city descends into a five-year war that destroys everything I built for my daughters. We play his game until the cards hit the green felt.""
I walked out of the study and made a quiet detour down the west wing. In Lily’s bedroom, the nightlight cast a soft amber glow over the room. Underneath the massive silk duvet, two small shapes lay nestled together. Emma was sleeping with her back pressed firmly against Lily’s side, clutching a clean, lavender-scented plush bear Elena had provided. Lily had one arm slung over her sister’s shoulder, a protective barrier forged by instinct rather than memory.
I stepped quietly to the edge of the bed and brushed a stray lock of blonde hair from Emma’s forehead. Her skin was warm now, the gray pallor of the park replaced by the faint flush of safety.
""I have you now,"" I whispered into the quiet dark. ""Nobody takes you from this house ever again.""
May you like
I turned toward the door, where Viktor stood in the shadows. The warmth vanished from my expression, replaced by the calculating predator who had buried forty rivals before his thirtieth birthday.
""Tell the convoy to load the heavy calibers,"" I said coldly. ""We're going to hear what my brother Sal has to say about our missing trucks.""
