Chapter 3 - BURIED SECRETS AND BLOOD DEBTS
The week that followed was a blur of cold stares and silent tension,
as the dynamic within the estate began to shift in ways I couldn't control.
Luke noticed it first,
his eyes narrowing whenever he saw Emma entering or leaving my study.
"She's getting too close,
Danny,"
he said one afternoon,
leaning against the doorframe of my office while I reviewed the ledgers.
"She's a maid,
Luke,"
I countered,
not looking up from the numbers that dictated the flow of illegal goods through the docks.
"She's a distraction,"
he insisted,
his voice dropping to a low,
dangerous tone.
"And in our world,
distractions get people killed."
I knew he was right,
but I also knew that Emma was the only thing keeping the phantom pain at bay.
When she was in the room,
scrubbing the floors or dusting the shelves,
I focused on her instead of the fire in my legs.
I focused on the way she hummed to herself when she thought I wasn't listening,
a soft,
haunting melody that sounded like a lullaby from a different life.
But my world was not one of lullabies,
it was one of blood and debt.
That evening,
a black sedan pulled up to the gates,
and a man I hadn't seen in years stepped out.
It was Elias Vance,
the man who had been my mentor before he became my rival.
He walked into my study with the confidence of a king,
ignoring the armed guards that trailed behind him.
"You look well,
Danny,"
he lied,
his eyes scanning my wheelchair with a cruel sort of amusement.
"I heard you were living in a fortress,
but it looks more like a museum for a dead man."
"State your business,
Elias,"
I said,
my hand resting on the hidden button that would alert my security team to open fire.
"I want the docks back,"
he said,
leaning over my desk.
"You can't run them from a chair,
and your men are getting restless."
"My men are loyal,"
I said,
though a seed of doubt had been planted.
"Are they?"
he asked,
grinning.
"Because I heard you've been spending more time with a little maid than with your captains."
My blood ran cold as he mentioned Emma,
and for the first time in two years,
I felt a fear that had nothing to do with my own safety.
"Leave her out of this,"
I hissed,
my grip tightening on the armrests of my chair.
"Oh,
I intend to,"
Elias said,
straightening his suit jacket.
"But the streets talk,
and they say the King of Chicago has developed a soft spot."
After he left,
the silence in the room was deafening.
I looked out the window and saw Emma in the garden,
hanging sheets to dry in the moonlight.
She was a target now,
a pawn in a game she didn't even know she was playing.
I had to push her away,
May you like
I had to make her hate me enough to leave,
before Elias used her to destroy what was left of my empire.
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