Chapter 1 - The Whisper in the Dark
Three seconds.
That was all it took.
Every instinct screamed at me to run.
We sat in the grand dining room.
Chandeliers dripped with cut crystal.
Outside, Chicago rain hammered the glass.
Inside, the air felt freezing.
Victor Duca sat across from me.
He wore black.
Tailored, expensive, and pitch-black.
His shoulders were broad.
His knuckles bore thick, jagged scars.
He had barely touched his wine.
He barely blinked.
His dark eyes tracked my hands every time I lifted my fork.
"Wrong brother, cara mia."
He had whispered those words in the hallway.
Just five minutes ago.
His voice had brushed my ear like velvet wrapped around razor wire.
My pulse had spiked to my throat.
It had not slowed down since.
Six months ago, I met Adrien.
Adrien was gentle.
He had walked into my Wicker Park yoga studio with a strained lower back.
He had smiled sheepishly.
He apologized for taking up space.
After years of surviving toxic men, Adrien felt like clean water.
He never shouted.
He bought me peonies on Tuesdays.
He listened when I spoke.
I thought I had finally found safety.
Now, I sat at his family’s Lincoln Park mansion.
And the safety felt like an illusion.
"Lena, dear, eat more risotto," Maria Duca said warmly.
Adrien’s mother smiled with genuine affection.
She reached out, patting my hand.
Beside her, Antonio, the patriarch, cut his steak.
His movements were surgical.
He was a man who owned half the cargo terminals on Lake Michigan.
"Victor," Antonio said, not looking up. "The shipping vendor in Gary called."
Victor set his glass down.
The crystal clicked against the mahogany table.
"Cancel them," Victor said simply.
"We’ve done business with them for thirty years," Antonio countered.
"They lied twice," Victor replied.
His voice was flat. Dead calm.
"They had supply delays, Victor."
"A delay is an obstacle," Victor said. "A lie is a choice."
The room went dead silent.
Rosa, Adrien’s younger sister, stopped chewing.
Victor leaned back slightly.
"If someone lies when the truth costs them nothing, imagine what they’ll do when
the truth becomes expensive."
My chest tightened.
Why did his eyes flick to me when he said that?
"So, Lena," Rosa chimed in, breaking the chill. "How did my clumsy brother
actually charm you?"
I forced a soft laugh.
"He showed up at my studio with an injured back. Barely could touch his toes."
Victor’s hand froze on his glass.
His gaze snapped directly to Adrien.
"An injury?" Victor asked.
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Adrien laughed quickly.
It sounded forced. Nervous.
"Just a pulled muscle from rowing, Vic. Ancient history."
Under the tablecloth, Adrien’s hand clamped down onto my knee.
Hard.
His fingers dug through the fabric of my dress.
It hurt.
I glanced at him in surprise.
Adrien was smiling at his brother, but his jaw was locked tight.
Victor stared at Adrien’s hand under the table.
He couldn't see it.
Yet he knew.
"Excuse me," I whispered.
I pulled my leg free from Adrien’s grip.
"I need the powder room."
I stood up before anyone could protest.
I walked down the long, arched corridor.
Portraits of dead Duca ancestors glared down at me.
In the mirror of the gold-leaf bathroom, my skin looked pale.
My fingers trembled.
You're being paranoid, I told myself.
Victor is just an intimidating older brother.
I took three deep breaths.
I straightened my black dress.
I turned the brass knob and stepped back into the hallway.
Victor was standing there.
He leaned against the dark wood wainscoting.
Arms crossed over his massive chest.
Waiting.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"You scared me," I breathed.
"Good," Victor said.
He didn't move away.
He stood tall, towering over me.
He smelled like cedar, black pepper, and cold rain.
"Do you know him, Lena?" Victor asked.
"Of course I know him," I snapped, defensive. "I’ve been with Adrien for six
months."
"Six months," Victor repeated.
A bitter smirk touched the corner of his lips.
"Exactly six months."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
Victor stepped forward.
One slow, deliberate pace.
I pressed my back against the wall behind me.
His scarred finger lifted.
He didn't touch my skin.
He hovered his hand an inch above my collarbone.
His gaze locked onto the silver pendant hanging at my throat.
It was an antique silver vine wrapped around an obsidian center.
Adrien had fastened it around my neck two weeks ago.
A family heirloom, Adrien had whispered.
Victor’s pupils dilated.
The icy composure on his face cracked instantly.
Raw fury flashed in his eyes.
Mixed with absolute shock.
"Where did you get that?" Victor demanded.
His voice was a razor.
"Adrien gave it to me," I stammered. "It belonged to your grandmother."
Victor’s jaw clenched so hard I heard the bone click.
He looked toward the dining room.
Then he looked back at me.
"Take it off," he ordered.
"What? No!"
"Take it off right now, Lena."
"Why should I?"
Victor leaned down until his eyes burned into mine.
"Because my grandmother didn't leave that to Adrien."
He swallowed, his voice dropping into a lethal murmur.
"She left it to me. To give to my wife."
Footsteps clicked on the marble floor behind us.
Adrien stepped into the corridor.
His gentle smile was completely gone.
His eyes were dead and hollow.
"Step away from my girlfriend, Victor," Adrien said.
Victor didn't flinch.
He took a slow step backward.
As he passed my shoulder, his lips brushed my hair.
May you like
"Check the back of the pendant," Victor whispered into my ear.
"Then ask yourself why he made you wear bait."
