Chapter 2 - Rattlesnakes in the Mansion
Marcus stood at six-foot-four, a former Special Forces operator whose loyalties I had bought with millions of dollars, luxury condos, and absolute authority over my private guard. Yet, as he stood at the foot of my four-poster bed, his hand rested casually on the grip of his holstered sidearm.
Not in a defensive posture. In a threat posture.
"Marcus," I said, keeping my posture relaxed despite the freezing agony rippling through my legs. "Is there a reason you’re standing in my bedroom looking like a hitman?"
Marcus didn't flinch. "Mr. Vance, Miss Vale raised a security concern regarding the new domestic staff. Given your deteriorating health, we can't take risks with unvetted personnel."
"Unvetted?" I let out a low, dangerous chuckle. "She was cleared by your team three weeks ago."
"We missed a few details in her background," Vanessa interrupted smoothly, walking over to my desk and picking up my signet ring—the gold crest that authorized all wire transfers and Syndicate orders. She slid it onto her thumb, spinning it thoughtfully. "It turns out Elena Ramirez has a history of financial distress. And having a child hidden in the living quarters? That’s a clear violation of protocol. Marcus, have her and her child escorted off the property immediately. Take their phones."
Elena didn't scream. She didn't beg. She simply backed up half a step, positioning herself between Marcus and the door.
"Touch her, Marcus," I said, my voice dropping an octave, cold enough to freeze blood, "and I will personally feed you to the fish in the Calumet River."
Marcus hesitated. Old habits died hard. For six years, he had watched me tear through rival cartels, corrupt politicians, and treacherous Underbosses. He knew what I was capable of.
"He’s weak, Marcus," Vanessa hissed, dropping her affectionate facade entirely. "Look at him! He can barely stand. The poison—" She caught herself, but it was too late.
The word hung in the air like smoke.
The poison.
Elena’s hand crept toward her pocket, but Marcus noticed the movement. He stepped forward, grabbing Elena’s arm forcefully.
"Let go of her!" A young, fierce voice shrieked from the hallway.
A small figure burst through the doorway. Maya. She couldn't have been more than eleven years old, wearing an oversized Chicago Cubs baseball cap and a faded denim jacket. She didn't hesitate. She threw her entire body weight into Marcus’s knee, kicking him with all the force her little frame could muster.
"Get off my mom!" Maya yelled.
Marcus stumbled back in surprise, releasing Elena. Elena instantly snatched Maya, pulling the girl behind her back.
Maya glared at Marcus, then turned her eyes to me. For the first time, our eyes locked directly. She had my exact slate-gray eyes, the sharp arch of my eyebrows, and the unflinching grit that had allowed me to conquer Chicago’s underworld.
"Julian..." Elena breathed, her voice trembling. "We have to go."
"Nobody is leaving," Vanessa said, pulling a small silver pistol from her purse. "Julian, you were supposed to die quietly of a 'neurological disorder.' The doctors were baffled. The Syndicate was ready to transition power to me as your grieving widow-to-be. You made a mistake bringing this trash into my house."
"You arrogant bitch," I growled, slowly sliding my legs out from under the heavy blankets. The room spun. My feet hit the cold hardwood floor, and a wave of nausea nearly made me black out. But the sight of my daughter standing five feet away from a loaded gun triggered something primal deep within my chest. "You think you can take my empire?"
"Your empire is already mine," Vanessa smirked. "Your Underbosses think you’re in a coma. I’ve been signing your documents for two weeks. All I need is for you to suffer one final, fatal heart attack tonight."
She raised the pistol, aiming it directly at Elena’s chest. "Starting with the witnesses."
CLICK.
Before Vanessa could pull the trigger, the heavy double doors of the master bedroom were kicked open with a thunderous bang.
"DROP IT!"
A hail of red laser dots swept across the room. Four men in unmarked black tactical gear rushed in, submachine guns raised, sweeping the area. But they weren't Marcus’s men.
At the front of the strike team stood Mateo—my oldest friend, my real Underboss, and the only man in Chicago who knew where the true bodies were buried.
"Mateo..." Vanessa gasped, lowering the gun slightly in shock. "How... what are you doing here?"
Mateo didn't even look at her. He pointed his rifle straight at Marcus’s head. "Marcus, step away from the boss, or I’ll repaint this wallpaper with your brains."
Marcus slowly raised his hands, stepping back.
Mateo walked over to me, offering a massive, tattooed forearm. I grabbed it, using his strength to haul my weakened body to my feet.
"You look like hell, Boss," Mateo grinned, though his eyes were burning with rage as he glanced at Vanessa.
"I’ve been better," I muttered, stabilizing myself against his shoulder. "How did you know?"
"A little birdie called my private line twenty minutes ago," Mateo said, glancing at Elena. "Said the boss was being fed rat poison and needed an emergency sanitation crew."
Vanessa’s face went pale. She looked at Elena in horror. "You... you called him?"
"I took a burner phone from the guard house two days ago," Elena said coldly. "I knew Julian’s loyalists wouldn't let you murder him."
Vanessa panicked. She swung her gun toward Mateo, but Mateo was faster. He stepped forward, backhanding her across the face with the butt of his rifle. Vanessa collapsed onto the Persian rug, her gun skittering across the floor.
Maya buried her face in Elena’s waist, hiding from the violence, but Elena held her tightly, keeping her eyes fixed on me.
"What do we do with them, Boss?" Mateo asked, motioning toward Marcus and Vanessa.
I looked down at Vanessa, who was crying on the floor, clutching her bruised jaw, the illusion of her aristocratic perfection completely shattered. Then I looked at Marcus, the traitor who had sold his soul for a woman’s lies.
"Lock them in the wine cellar beneath the garage," I said, my voice cold as ice. "Reinforced steel doors. No phones. No light. I’ll deal with them when I can walk on my own two feet."
"You can't do this!" Vanessa screamed as Mateo’s men dragged her toward the door. "My father will destroy you, Julian! The Vale family owns this city!"
"Your father is next," I whispered.
As the guards dragged the traitors away, the bedroom fell silent once again. The air felt lighter, though the chill in my bones hadn't fully vanished.
I turned slowly to face Elena and Maya.
Maya peeked out from behind her mother’s jacket, her dark eyes filled with a mixture of awe and fear.
May you like
I dropped to one knee—a movement that cost me every ounce of physical strength I had left—and looked my daughter in the eyes.
"Hey kiddo," I said softly, the ruthless mafia don disappearing entirely. "Nice kick."
