Chapter 13 - Cracks in the High Society
The voice on the phone was young, aristocratic, and completely devoid of fear.
Vincent's grip on my hand tightened, his voice dropping into a low, murderous growl.
"Julian."
"Ah, you still remember the name of the rightful heirs to this city," the voice replied with a soft, theatrical chuckle.
"It took a long time to crawl out of the ash your father left behind, Vincent. But I returned to find you playing house with a destitute Cinderella."
I stepped closer to the speaker, refusing to let the trembling in my knees reach my voice.
"You left a threat in my children's bedroom," I spoke directly into the microphone.
"If you have grievances with the men of the past, fight like a man in the open."
There was a brief silence on the other end, followed by a low, amused hum.
"Fascinating. So the rumors are true. The stray Vincent pulled off the pavement actually has teeth."
"Name your ground, Julian," Vincent barked, cutting through the man's mockery.
"Let's settle the blood debt between us, just you and me."
"Not so fast, Cousin," Julian whispered, dragging out the word *cousin* with deliberate venom.
"The Board of Directors for the Chicago Arts Society is hosting its annual charity auction tomorrow night at the Palmer House."
"You are going to attend with your charming bride. If you fail to show, or if you bring an army of guns into the ballroom, my men will detonate three cargo ships currently docked at your harbor."
The line went dead with a sharp click.
I looked at Vincent, my mind racing through the impossible logistics of the threat.
"Cousin?" I asked, catching the word that lingered like a bad odor in the room.
"Are you related to Julian Valenti?"
Vincent turned toward the bookshelf, running a hand through his dark hair, looking visibly shaken for the first time since I had known him.
"My aunt... my father's younger sister, Maria, was married to Domenico Valenti in an arranged truce thirty years ago," he admitted slowly.
"The marriage failed. Blood was spilled, and the truce became a slaughter."
"He called me a stray," I said, my heart pounding against my ribs as an inexplicable dread seized me.
"Vincent, what else haven't you told me about the night we met?"
Vincent took a deep breath, avoiding my gaze for three excruciating seconds.
"Tomorrow night, we walk into the lion's den at the Palmer House," he said quietly, changing the subject.
"Marco will secure our exits, but we must play Julian's game until I can locate his central bunker."
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"I'm not afraid of his games," I said firmly, straightening my spine.
"He threatened Lily and Mia. He will learn what happens when you corner a mother."
