Chapter 3 - THE MUDDY SHOE IN THE FOYER
The silence that followed Rebecca’s words was heavier than the heavy oak dining table.
Katherine isn't dead.
I pulled Sophie tighter against my side, shielding her eyes from the chaotic scene unfolding before us. The little girl was trembling violently, her small hands gripping my apron with desperate strength.
"Get up," Adrian ordered Rebecca, his voice devoid of any warmth. He didn't lower his gun.
Rebecca scrambled to her feet, her expensive dress ruined, her knees scraped and bleeding. She looked at Arthur, who was pinned against the wall by Marcus, and a flash of pure hatred crossed her face.
"He did this!" Rebecca screamed, pointing a shaking finger at Arthur. "He made me lie to you, Adrian! He said if I didn't keep Sophie quiet about the hospital visit, they would kill me too!"
"You lying bitch!" Arthur spat, struggling against Marcus's iron grip. "You were in on it from the beginning! You wanted her out of the way so you could take her place!"
"Shut up!" Adrian roared, the sound echoing through the cavernous room.
He looked at Rebecca, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying, contained fury. "Who tried to kill you today, Rebecca?"
"The Moretti family," Rebecca sobbed, wrapping her arms around herself. "I was on my way to the dress fitting. Arthur’s men ambushed my car. They drove me to the abandoned warehouse district. They were going to shoot me and make it look like a carjacking, but I managed to slip out the back and run through the rail yards."
The Moretti family.
Even I knew that name. They were the rival syndicate, the only organization in Chicago powerful enough to challenge the Callahans. They had been in a tense, uneasy truce for the past five years.
"Why would the Morettis want you dead?" Adrian demanded, stepping closer to her.
"Because they have Katherine!" Rebecca cried. "Arthur didn't just hide her, Adrian! He sold her to them! He gave them your wife in exchange for peace and a cut of their South Side ports!"
Adrian froze.
The betrayal was so profound, so sickeningly deep, that for a fraction of a second, the mafia boss looked entirely broken. His own uncle, his second-in-command, had sold his wife to his enemies and faked her death to secure a business deal.
Adrian slowly turned his head to look at Arthur.
Arthur’s face was the color of ash. He stopped struggling against Marcus. He knew he was a dead man.
"Is it true?" Adrian whispered.
"She was weak, Adrian," Arthur sneered, trying to salvage some shred of his pride. "Katherine wanted you to go legitimate. She was poisoning your mind, making you soft. The Morettis wanted leverage, and I needed you focused on the empire. It was a tactical decision."
Adrian didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice. He simply raised his gun and pressed the barrel directly between Arthur’s eyes.
"Where is she?" Adrian asked softly.
"I don't know," Arthur swallowed hard, a bead of sweat tracing down his temple. "They move her every month. I just facilitate the payments."
Adrian stared at him for a long, agonizing moment. Then, in a blur of motion, he swung the heavy steel barrel of his gun, striking Arthur brutally across the jaw.
Arthur crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
"Lock him in the basement," Adrian ordered Marcus without looking down at his uncle’s bleeding body. "He doesn't see daylight again until I say so."
"Yes, boss," Marcus grunted, hauling Arthur’s dead weight up by the collar and dragging him out of the room.
Adrian turned back to Rebecca. She was sobbing, shivering in her ruined clothes, waiting for him to comfort her.
He didn't.
"You knew," Adrian stated coldly. "For eighteen months, you slept in my bed, you wore her ring, and you knew she was a prisoner."
"I was terrified, Adrian!" Rebecca pleaded, reaching out for him. "Arthur threatened me! I loved you! I wanted to protect you!"
"You wanted my money," Adrian corrected, stepping back to avoid her touch. "David. Take her to the secure wing. Put her in a separate room from my daughter. Lock the door."
David nodded, grabbing Rebecca roughly by the arm. She screamed and fought, begging Adrian for forgiveness, but the guard dragged her out of the dining room without hesitation.
The room was suddenly quiet, save for the ragged sound of Sophie’s breathing.
Adrian stood alone at the head of the table, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on the empty pale green velvet chair. The illusion of his life had just been violently shattered.
I didn't know what to do. I was a maid, an employee who had only been here for nineteen days. I should have quietly slipped out the back door and never come back.
But I looked down at the little girl clinging to my apron, the little girl who had known her mother was alive and had carried that terrifying secret alone for a year and a half.
I couldn't leave her.
"Mr. Callahan?" I said softly.
Adrian slowly turned to look at me. The impenetrable, terrifying mask was gone. He looked exhausted, haunted, and deeply vulnerable.
"Claire," Adrian whispered, his voice cracking. He looked at Sophie, then back at me. "I need you to do something for me."
"Anything," I promised.
"Take Sophie to the safe house," Adrian said, walking toward us. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a heavy set of keys, pressing them into my hand. "It’s in the northern suburbs. The address is on the fob. It’s off the grid. No one knows about it except me."
"What about you?" Sophie cried, finally letting go of my apron to run to her father.
Adrian dropped to his knees, catching his daughter in a fierce, desperate embrace. He buried his face in her hair, holding her so tightly I thought she might break.
"I'm going to find your mommy, sweetheart," Adrian promised fiercely, kissing the top of her head. "I'm going to bring her home. I swear it on my life."
He pulled back, cupping her tear-stained face in his large hands. "But I need you to be brave for me, okay? You stay with Claire. You listen to her. She’s going to keep you safe."
Sophie nodded bravely, wiping her eyes. "Okay, Daddy."
Adrian stood up, looking at me with a profound, terrifying trust. "Protect her, Claire. If anything happens to me, Marcus will come for you. Do not open the door for anyone else."
"I won't let anyone hurt her," I swore, the maternal instinct burning fiercely in my chest.
Adrian nodded once, a sharp, decisive movement. He turned and sprinted out of the dining room, disappearing into the chaotic mansion to mobilize his men for war.
I grabbed Sophie’s hand and hurried toward the back servant’s entrance, avoiding the main foyer where the guards were shouting and arming themselves.
We slipped out into the cool evening air, running toward the garage where the nondescript staff cars were parked.
But as we reached the heavy metal door of the garage, I froze.
Sitting on the concrete floor, directly in front of the door we needed to open, was a single, muddy, expensive men's dress shoe.
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It was the exact same shoe Arthur Callahan had been wearing when Marcus dragged him out of the dining room unconscious ten minutes ago.
And a trail of fresh blood led away from the shoe, disappearing into the dark, labyrinthine hedges of the estate’s massive gardens.
