Chapter 2 - THE ENVELOPE THAT RUINED BREAKFAST
Adrian Moretti looked exactly like a ghost should look.
Pale.
Dangerous.
And deeply inconvenient.
I opened the door three inches.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
He smiled faintly.
“Good evening to you too, Claire.”
I stared.
Seven years earlier, Adrian had been the only son of a powerful Chicago crime family.
He was intelligent.
Quiet.
And far less interested in violence than his father wanted him to be.
We met when I was twenty-four.
I worked nights at a downtown hotel.
Adrian was staying there under an assumed name.
One evening, I found him bleeding in the service elevator.
Instead of screaming, I brought him towels.
Instead of calling security, I called the private doctor whose number he gave me.
He survived.
Three months later, a car explosion supposedly killed him.
I attended his funeral.
Now he stood outside my condo wearing a charcoal coat.
“May I come in?”
I considered it.
Then stepped aside.
“If you bleed on my sofa, you're paying for it.”
He laughed.
“I missed you.”
I closed the door.
“What do you want?”
His expression became serious.
“To warn you.”
My stomach tightened.
“About Ethan?”
“About Vanessa.”
I folded my arms.
“What about her?”
Adrian reached inside his coat.
He placed a photograph on the table.
Vanessa.
Standing outside a private medical clinic.
Beside a man with dark hair and a tattoo behind his ear.
I stared.
“Who's that?”
“Daniel Russo.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Adrian continued.
“He works for Victor Salerno.”
That name meant everything.
Victor Salerno was Ethan's oldest rival.
The man responsible for several violent conflicts along Chicago's waterfront.
I looked at the photograph again.
“Vanessa is involved with Salerno?”
Adrian nodded.
“And she's been meeting Russo for months.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Well, Ethan certainly knows how to pick women.”
Adrian didn't smile.
“Claire, Vanessa didn't return because she missed Ethan.”
I looked up.
“She returned because someone sent her.”
The room went silent.
Outside, waves struck the lakefront.
I stared at the photograph.
Then at Adrian.
“Why are you telling me?”
His expression softened.
“Because you're no longer protected by Ethan's name.”
I smiled.
“I'm protected by forty million dollars.”
Adrian shook his head.
“Money won't stop what they're planning.”
For the first time that evening, I stopped joking.
“What are they planning?”
He looked toward the windows.
Then answered.
“To destroy Ethan Blackwood.”
May you like
A pause.
“And anyone who knows enough to expose them.”
