Chapter 1 - The Shadow of Vincent Russo
The telephone at the back of the Sunset Park laundromat didn’t just ring; it rattled against the wood paneling like a trapped bird. Sarah Bennett closed her eyes, her fingers frozen over a basket of damp sheets. Only three people had this number: Lily’s daycare, the landlord, and the ghost she had spent three years running from.
"Sarah," the voice on the line was a low, gravelly rasp that smelled of cheap cigars and expensive cologne. It wasn’t Al. It was Vincent Russo—Aleandro’s second-in-command, the man who handled the dirt the boss never touched. "You're a hard woman to find when you don't want to be found."
Sarah’s heart hammered against her ribs like a fist against a door. She pressed the receiver closer to her ear, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "Vincent. How did you get this number? I told you three years ago—"
"You told Al you couldn't do it. You didn't tell me anything," Vincent interrupted, his tone chillingly smooth. "The boss has been... distracted. But things are changing in the city, Sarah. The Colombo family is pushing the borders. Aleandro is exposed. And when a king is exposed, people start looking for his crown jewels."
A cold sweat broke out across Sarah’s collarbone. "I don't know anything about his business. I left. I live a quiet life. I have nothing to do with him."
"You have his eyes, Sarah," Vincent said softly. "Or rather, a little girl in Sunset Park has them. You think you're clever, hiding above a laundromat? Aleandro’s enemies aren't stupid. If they find out the great Moretti has a weakness—a bloodline—they won't use it for a bargaining chip. They’ll erase it."
The room spun. Sarah looked out the grease-stained window toward the park across the street where Lily was supposed to be playing under Miss Delgado’s watchful eye. The world seemed to lose its color, turning into the blurred, dangerous monochrome of the news broadcast she had seen three years ago.
"What do you want, Vincent?" she choked out.
"A meeting. Tonight. Pier 42. Bring the girl. If you don't, I’ll have to tell Aleandro myself that his missing woman has been raising his heir in a slum. And trust me, sweetheart, the boss isn't the patient man you remember from Rosie’s Diner anymore. The city broke him when you left."
The line went dead. Sarah stood in the flickering fluorescent light, the smell of detergent suddenly making her nauseous. She couldn't call Al. If she called him, she would pull Lily straight into the crosshairs of a mafia war. But if she didn't go to the pier, Vincent would bring the war to their doorstep.
She walked out of the laundromat, her legs heavy as lead, her eyes searching the playground until she spotted the bright pink jacket. Lily was swinging, her dark curls flying in the wind, laughing at something another child had said. Sarah ran to her, pulling her off the swing so fast the little girl gasped.
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"Mommy? Are we going home?" Lily asked, her blue-gray eyes wide with confusion.
"Yes, baby. We have to go. Right now," Sarah said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts. She packed Lily’s small backpack with frantic hands, her mind racing. She needed the wooden box under the bed. She needed to know what Vincent really wanted, and she needed to protect the only thing that mattered in her fractured world.
