Chapter 3 - Blood Money and Vanishing Witnesses
By midnight, the mansion was completely silent, but nobody was sleeping.
The dinner guests had been quietly dismissed with polite excuses about Mrs. Romano feeling under the weather.
In the basement office, Matteo sat behind an enormous mahogany desk, surrounded by computer monitors and encrypted phone lines.
Marco walked in, carrying a thick black folder.
“Boss, we ran the pharmacy records.”
I was standing near the door, having just brought a cup of hot chamomile tea for Matteo at his request.
Matteo gestured for me to stay.
“Speak, Marco.”
“The prescription for Elena Vale was filled three days ago at a small private clinic in South Chicago,” Marco said, placing photographs on the desk. “The doctor who signed off on it is Dr. Julian Vance. He was on Carmine Romano’s personal payroll ten years ago before he lost his license for illegal distribution.”
Matteo’s fingers tightened around his pen until the plastic cracked.
“Where is Vance now?”
“Gone,” Marco replied grimly. “We sent a team to his apartment twenty minutes ago. The place was ransacked. His passport, hard drives, and cash reserves were missing. It looks like someone warned him the moment dinner went wrong.”
“Who warned him?” Matteo asked.
“Alessandra didn’t make any calls from her room,” Marco noted. “Her phone was confiscated immediately.”
“Then someone else inside this house is working with her,” I spoke without thinking.
Both men turned their heads toward me.
I immediately lowered my gaze.
“Forgive me, Mr. Romano. I shouldn’t have spoken.”
Matteo leaned back in his leather chair, studying me with keen interest.
“No, Claire. Go on. Why do you say that?”
I took a breath and stepped toward the desk.
“When Alessandra brought Mrs. Romano the pill at dinner, she didn’t fetch it from upstairs herself. The butler, Henderson, brought the silver tray into the dining room five minutes before the main course.”
Matteo’s eyes darkened.
Henderson had worked for the Romano family for over twenty-five years.
He was considered a fixture of loyalty.
“Bring Henderson down here,” Matteo ordered Marco quietly.
Three minutes later, Marco returned alone.
His expression was grim.
“Henderson isn’t in his quarters, Boss.”
“Did he leave through the main gate?”
“No. The security footage shows him slipping through the cellar emergency exit six minutes after you locked Alessandra in her suite. A black sedan with tinted windows was waiting for him at the perimeter road.”
Matteo stood up, kicking his chair back with sudden violence.
The wood slammed against the wall with a deafening crack.
“He took Carmine’s bread for twenty-five years,” Matteo growled, his voice vibrating with absolute fury. “And he helped poison him.”
He walked around the desk and stopped right in front of me.
“Claire.”
“Yes, Mr. Romano?”
“You are observant. More observant than half the men I pay to protect this family.”
“I just pay attention to details, sir. When you grow up in a working-class neighborhood where one mistake means you don't eat, you learn to watch everything.”
A faint, rare smile touched the corner of Matteo’s lips, though his eyes remained fierce.
“You have guts. Most people would have packed their bags and run the second they saw guns in this house.”
“I care about Mrs. Romano,” I said honestly. “She has been kinder to me than anyone else since my father lost his job. I won’t let anyone hurt her.”
May you like
Matteo looked down at me, and for a brief second, the dangerous mafia boss vanished, replaced by a man carrying the unbearable weight of grief and betrayal.
“Neither will I,” he said quietly. “Marco! Mobilize the outer perimeter teams. I want every road out of Cook County monitored. Nobody associated with the Vale family leaves Chicago tonight.”
