Chapter 6 - Shadows at the Gate
While the private dining room upstairs was filled with the quiet, domestic warmth of Petra serving extra helpings of dessert to a sleepy four-year-old girl, three miles away, in a glass-walled penthouse overlooking the Chicago River, a very different conversation was taking place.
Arthur Vance slammed his fist against the mahogany wet bar, shattering a crystal tumbler into a thousand glittering shards.
"What do you mean, Paul is gone?!" Arthur roared into his encrypted cell phone, his face contorted with rage. "The federal marshals raided his apartment thirty minutes ago! They have his hard drives, his bank records, everything!"
On the other end of the secure line, an anonymous operative in the municipal records office spoke in a hushed, nervous whisper. "It wasn't the feds, Mr. Vance. Well, it was the feds, but they were acting on a complete, airtight financial dossier handed directly to them by Vincent Caruso’s legal team. Paul flipped instantly. He gave up the whole syndicate buyout scheme."
Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat. He paced across the Persian rug of his penthouse—ironically, the exact twin of the one ruined in Vincent’s mansion—his mind racing wildly.
"Caruso moves too fast," Arthur muttered, gripping the phone so hard his knuckles turned white. "We spent eight months setting up the Halsted Street acquisition. If we don't secure those warehouses by the end of the month, our municipal development contracts fall through, and the whole syndicate board in New York will skin us alive."
"What do you want to do, Mr. Vance? Sue for peace?"
Arthur let out a harsh, venomous laugh. "Peace with Vincent Caruso? You don't make peace with a wolf; you put a bullet in its head. If we can't break him through his business, we break him through his estate."
"His estate is a fortress, sir. You saw what happened to Paul."
"Paul was an idiot who trusted family loyalty over self-preservation," Arthur snapped, stopping by the floor-to-ceiling window to stare out at the frozen river below. "Caruso keeps a low profile. Nobody knows who lives in that Lake Forest mansion except his vetted staff. But every fortress has a weak point. Find out who’s inside that house. Find out who he cares about."
May you like
"Sir... rumors are circulating that a domestic worker and her child are currently living in the main wing."
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, a cold, predatory smile spreading across his face. "A maid and a kid? Well, well, well. It seems the great Vincent Caruso has developed a soft spot. And soft spots make wonderful targets."
