Chapter 8 - Shadows in the Dark
Before Emma could finalize her answer, miles away in a private members' club on Michigan Avenue, Victoria Sterling was meeting with a man known in Chicago’s underbelly simply as Mack.
Mack wore an ill-fitting leather jacket over a cheap button-up, his knuckle scars revealing decades of ruthless street enforcement. He tossed a thin manila folder onto the table in front of Victoria.
"Emma Carter," Mack said, lighting a cigarette despite the indoor smoking ban. "Twenty-four years old. Works double shifts at the Drake and a diner on 18th Street. Parents died in a car crash four years ago. She’s the sole legal guardian of her younger brother, Liam."
Victoria leaned forward, her manicured nails digging into the edge of the folder. "And the boy? What’s his story?"
"Chronic respiratory illness," Mack replied with a sinister smirk. "Weak lungs. Needs special treatments at St. Jude’s Children’s Clinic every two weeks. If he misses his nebulizer therapies, he ends up in the ICU. The girl spends every dime keeping the kid breathing."
A cruel, venomous smile spread across Victoria’s face. The humiliation she had suffered at the gala—the memory of Vincent’s cold dismissal and the laughter of the high-society elites—burned in her gut like acid.
"She thinks she can destroy my life and walk away into Vincent Moretti’s good graces," Victoria hissed, her voice trembling with hatred. "She thinks that little display of bravery made her untouchable."
"What do you want done, Miss Sterling?" Mack asked, leaning in. "A scare? A broken arm?"
"No," Victoria said, her eyes gleaming with dark intent. "A broken arm won't stop her from testifying or cozying up to the Morettis. I want leverage. Total, indisputable leverage. If she wants her little brother to keep breathing, she will publicly admit that she instigated the fight at the gala, that she attacked me first, and that she lied to Vincent Moretti."
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Mack chuckled darkly. "Grabbing a sick kid from a public clinic is risky, Miss Sterling. Moretti has eyes everywhere."
Victoria threw a thick envelope stuffed with hundred-dollar bills onto the table. "That’s fifty thousand in cash. Another fifty thousand when Emma Carter is on her knees begging for my forgiveness on camera. Get the boy. Do it today."
