Chapter 8 - THE BLOOD-STAINED ENVELOPE
The chaos of the press conference died instantly.
The reporters, recognizing Marcus Vance—the most notorious crime boss on the North Side—scrambled backward, cameras still rolling but a safe distance maintained.
The police officers on the scene reached for their sidearms, but the commissioner raised a hand, signaling them to hold.
Marcus Vance stood at the bottom of the marble steps. He looked exhausted, cornered, and incredibly dangerous.
"Romano!" Vance shouted, his gravelly voice cutting through the damp morning air.
Sebastian didn't flinch. He slowly walked down two steps, placing himself between Vance and me.
"You have a lot of nerve showing up at my front door, Marcus," Sebastian said, his voice deadly calm.
Vance sneered, holding up the blood-stained envelope.
"I'm not here for a war, Sebastian. I'm here to make a trade."
"I don't trade with the man who killed my brother," Sebastian replied coldly.
"I didn't kill your brother!" Vance roared, the sudden desperation in his voice shocking the silent crowd. "Graham Tate did! He lied to me!"
Sebastian paused. "Explain."
Vance took a step closer, gesturing frantically with the envelope.
"Three years ago, Graham came to me. He said he had a leak in his firm. An accountant who was snooping around the stadium money. He said he needed the kid dealt with."
Vance looked at Sebastian, a rare flash of genuine regret crossing his scarred face.
"I didn't know the kid was Dominic Romano," Vance swore. "Graham never gave me a name. He just gave me an address and said it was a corporate spy. If I had known he was your blood, Sebastian, I never would have touched him. You know the rules. We don't touch family."
Sebastian's jaw clenched. The lie of omission had cost his brother's life. Graham had manipulated the mafia just as easily as he had manipulated me.
"Why are you here, Marcus?" Sebastian demanded. "The feds have the embezzlement files. Your accounts are frozen. You have nothing left to trade."
Vance smiled grimly.
"I have the one thing that guarantees Graham Tate never sees the outside of a cell."
Vance tossed the blood-stained envelope onto the steps. It landed at Sebastian's feet.
"When Graham ordered the hit on your brother," Vance explained, his eyes darting to the police commissioner who was listening intently, "he paid my men with a cashier's check. A clean, untraceable check. But my men are thorough. They recorded the drop. They recorded Graham handing over the money and Dominic's watch."
Vance pointed to the envelope.
"The USB drive in there has the video. Graham handing over the hit money. It's the smoking gun for a Murder One charge."
Sebastian stared at the envelope. It was the final piece of the puzzle. The absolute destruction of Graham Tate.
"And what do you want for it?" Sebastian asked softly.
Vance looked at the police commissioner, then back to Sebastian.
"I want safe passage," Vance said. "I give you Graham Tate on a silver platter, and you let me walk away. I leave Chicago. I don't come back."
Sebastian looked at the envelope. He looked at the police commissioner, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. A gang boss retreating was a victory; a CEO convicted of murder was a career-making headline.
Sebastian picked up the envelope.
"You have one hour to clear city limits, Marcus," Sebastian said coldly. "If I ever see your face again, the truce is void."
Vance nodded once, relief washing over his scarred face. He turned, climbed back into his town car, and sped out of the gates, leaving his empire behind in exchange for his life.
Sebastian handed the envelope to the police commissioner.
"Arrest him," Sebastian said.
Ten minutes later, as the press dispersed to chase the breaking story of Graham Tate's imminent arrest, I stood in the grand foyer with Sebastian.
The adrenaline was finally fading, replaced by a profound, bone-deep exhaustion.
"It's over," I whispered, leaning against the heavy oak table.
"It is," Sebastian agreed. He looked at me, his dark eyes softening for the first time all morning. "You did incredible out there, Mara. You took your life back."
I offered a weak smile. "I had a little help."
Suddenly, Daniel rushed into the foyer, his phone pressed to his ear. His face was completely pale.
"Boss," Daniel interrupted, his voice tight with panic.
"What is it?" Sebastian asked.
"The police just raided Graham's penthouse to execute the arrest warrant for the murder charge."
"And?"
Daniel swallowed hard.
"He's not there, Boss. The penthouse was empty. And his passport is missing."
My stomach dropped into my shoes.
"He ran," I breathed.
"He can't get far," Sebastian said, instantly shifting into command mode. "His bank accounts are frozen. The firm is seized. He has no money."
Daniel shook his head.
"That's the problem, Boss. He didn't take money."
Daniel looked at me, genuine terror in his eyes.
"The police found Louise in the penthouse. She's unconscious. She was beaten badly."
"Louise?" I gasped. "Why would he go after Louise?"
"Because she had something he needed," Daniel explained frantically. "She told the paramedics before she passed out."
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Daniel looked at Sebastian.
"Graham didn't take money, Boss. He took Chloe."
