Chapter 3 - locker forty-four
The rain beat relentlessly against the rusted iron roofs of Pier 19 as Victor’s sedan pulled up to the abandoned docklands.
Flanked by Marco and four armed enforcers, Victor walked down the narrow storage corridor, stopping outside locker forty-four. He inserted the brass key into the padlock and turned it. The heavy lock clicked open.
Inside the small locker sat a single steel briefcase resting on a wooden crate.
Victor popped the latches of the briefcase. Inside lay a thick brown dossier and a gloss photograph.
Victor lifted the photograph into the dim light.
His chest tightened. The photograph showed his late wife, Elena, taken ten years ago outside a private clinic in Chicago. She was holding a newborn infant wrapped in a yellow blanket.
Standing directly behind Elena, with his arm wrapped around her waist and a proud smile on his face, was Adrian Cross.
Tucked into the corner of the photograph was a handwritten note in Celeste’s elegant cursive:
Ask Adrian who the real father of your daughter is.
Marco leaned over Victor’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he recognized the faces. "Don Victor... that's impossible. Elena died in the hospital fire ten years ago!"
"Elena didn't die ten years ago," Victor said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "She lied to me."
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"What do we do, Boss?" Marco asked.
Victor snapped the briefcase shut. "We're going to Adrian's penthouse."
