Chapter 6 - Unfinished Business
The underground study beneath the Winnetka estate looked less like a criminal’s lair and more like a high-end corporate boardroom crossed with a war room.
Large digital screens lined the walnut-paneled walls, displaying real-time traffic cameras, shipping manifests from the port of Chicago, and intercepted cellular transcripts between rival syndicate capos.
Dante stood before the main console, tapping a stylus against the glass. "The Rossis aren't just looking for you because of the Vance files, Elena. They're looking because Vance was laundering their drug money through the hospital's trauma foundation. When you accidentally stumbled onto their ledger, they killed him and tried to frame you to keep the federal investigators off their backs."
Elena stood by the large stone fireplace, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "I know why they killed him. I saw the transfer slips on his desk ten minutes before he was shot in the garage. But the police corruption runs deep. Every time I tried to go to internal affairs, someone whispered a warning that my name was next on the list."
"Internal affairs answers to politicians," Dante said coldly. "Politicians answer to campaign donors. And campaign donors answer to whoever controls the docks." He turned around, his dark eyes fixing on her with terrifying intensity. "Which is me. Not the Rossis."
"So what's your play, Marchetti?" Elena asked, her voice steady. "You want me to be your personal physician while you wage a turf war?"
"My play is simple," Dante said, stepping closer until only a few feet separated them. "I give you the men who framed you. I give you the proof that clears your medical license. And in exchange..." He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. "...you stay here where you're safe. And you keep my dog healthy."
Elena stared at him, weighing the offer. It was a deal with the devil, pure and simple. But in a city built on blood and concrete, the devil was the only one offering protection.
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"If you're lying to me," Elena whispered, "I have enough surgical steel in my bag to take out every major artery in your body before your guards can draw their guns."
Dante let out a low, genuine laugh—a sound that echoed warmly in the cavernous study. "I wouldn't expect anything less from the woman who yelled at me in my own dining room."
