Chapter 3 - the physician's signature
The silence inside the small apartment was heavy enough to suffocate.
Dominic stepped closer to Vincent, his broad frame completely blocking the dim light from the hallway window. "I asked you a question, Vincent."
Vincent took a slow breath, pulling off his black leather gloves. "Boss... I discovered Claire was alive two years ago during a routine sweep of the South Side medical clinics. She was critically ill with pneumonia. She had a four-year-old child."
"And you didn't bring her to me?" Dominic growled, his deep voice vibrating through the room.
"If I had brought her to you two years ago, the Commission would have learned that a Bellini survivor was living under your protection," Vincent explained, his voice steady and calm. "The rival Moretti syndicate was looking for any excuse to trigger a territorial war. I kept her hidden and paid her medical bills to keep the peace in Chicago."
"You lied to me for two years," Dominic said, taking another step forward.
"I protected you, Don Dominic," Vincent countered respectfully. "I protected this family from a war you didn't need."
Claire stepped between the two imposing men, her hands raised slightly. "Dominic, stop! Vincent is telling the truth! He came to me two years ago. He offered me money to leave Illinois, but I refused to take Vescari money. He left Dr. Vance's prescription card on my counter so Lily wouldn't lose her mother."
Dominic looked between Claire and his security chief. The story sounded logical on the surface, but something in Dominic's gut—an instinct forged in the brutal poverty of his youth—told him the narrative was incomplete.
Dominic turned back to the entryway table. He noticed that the floorboard directly beneath the table sat slightly higher than the surrounding wood.
Dominic knelt down, sweeping aside the small braided rug. He slid his fingers along the edge of the oak board, lifting a loose panel.
Inside the hidden floorboard cavity lay a thick manila folder stamped with a red security seal.
Dominic pulled the folder out and opened it under the dim overhead bulb.
Inside were six years of private banking statements from a Swiss account registered in Zurich. The statements detailed a monthly transfer of fifty thousand dollars into a private trust fund—authorized using the master biometric seal of the Vescari family vault.
Dominic scanned the authorization line at the bottom of the ledger.
The biometric authorization stamp didn't belong to Marco. It didn't belong to Vincent.
The master authorization seal belonged to Dominic's father, Don Carmine Vescari—a man who had been dead for fifteen years.
Dominic held the paper up, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. "This trust fund has been paying fifty thousand dollars a month into a private account registered under Lily's name for six years. Who authorized this, Claire?"
Claire stared at the paper in utter bewilderment. "I... I don't know what that is! I swear on my daughter's life, I've been working two jobs at a bakery! We barely have enough money for rent and soup!"
Dominic turned the page. Attached to the back of the trust document was a property deed for the Bellini family’s old shipping docks on the Chicago River—a multi-million-dollar asset that had been missing from the Vescari ledgers since the night of the fire.
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Before Dominic could speak, a sharp, deafening crack shattered the silence of the evening.
The street-facing window exploded inward in a cascade of sharp glass fragments. A high-powered sniper round tore through the curtains, missing Claire's head by three inches, and embedded itself deep into the plaster wall behind her!
