Chapter 1 - the photograph in the dust
The freezing Chicago wind rattled the floor-to-ceiling glass of the Moretti estate, but inside the grand library, the air was dead quiet.
Dominic "Stone" Moretti stood motionless behind the stone wall of the ruined sunflower garden, his fingers dug deep into the masonry. His chest heaved in silent, violent gasps.
*“Daddy said Mrs. Elena knew who put the bomb in her car.”*
The toddler’s quiet whisper still echoed in his ears like a gunshot.
Dominic stepped around the frost-bitten weeds, his polished shoes crunching against dead leaves. His towering frame cast a heavy shadow over the forgotten flower bed. He dropped to one knee, ignoring the cold dampness soaking through his fitted black trousers, and reached for the faded photograph resting against the stone.
It was a photo of a young man with gentle eyes—Sofia’s late husband. Dominic flipped the worn paper over.
Stamped in dark blue ink on the back was a classified Moretti security crest. Beneath it was a hand-stamped date and time: October 14, 2021 — 07:42 AM.
Dominic’s breath hitched. October 14th was the exact morning his wife Elena and their four-year-old daughter were blown to pieces in front of their home. And 7:42 AM was eighteen minutes before the ignition key was turned.
"Boss?"
Dominic slammed his hand over the photo and stood up in one fluid, terrifying movement.
Charles Bennett, the estate manager, stood at the garden edge in his tailored dark suit, holding a leather folder. His expression was impeccably neutral, but his eyes flicked sharply toward Dominic’s closed fist.
"You're out here without an escort," Charles said smoothly, his voice polished and calm. "The lieutenants are waiting in the study for the South Side distribution report."
"Let them wait," Dominic rasped, his voice like grinding gravel. He slipped the photograph into the inner pocket of his suit jacket, right over his heart. "Where is the maid?"
Charles didn't blink. "Sofia? She is in the east wing, cleaning the guest quarters. Is there a problem with her work?"
"No," Dominic said, stepping past Charles, his shoulder brushing heavily against the older man’s arm. "Send her to my private office in ten minutes. Alone."
May you like
As Dominic walked away, Charles remained in the freezing garden. He slowly looked down at the empty stone where the photograph had rested just moments before, his jaw tightening into a hard, dangerous line.
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