Chapter 2 - The File With Her Name on It
Adrian DeLuca's penthouse occupied the top three floors of a glass tower overlooking the Chicago River.
Vivian hated it immediately.
It was too quiet.
Too clean.
Too expensive.
There were no photographs on the walls.
No clutter.
No evidence that anyone actually lived there.
Just black stone, dark wood, floor-to-ceiling windows, and furniture arranged as if the room itself had been trained never to make mistakes.
Adrian removed his jacket.
“Sit.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“No?”
“I don't take commands well.”
Something warm flickered through his eyes.
“Interesting.”
“I need my phone.”
“Your bag is on the table.”
Vivian grabbed it.
The phone was there.
Three missed calls from her supervisor.
Two texts from her coworker.
One notification from her bank.
Normal.
She almost laughed.
Her world hadn't changed on that tiny screen.
She was still an event coordinator.
There was still a schedule to finalize.
There were still flowers to approve.
Yet she was standing in the penthouse of Chicago's most feared crime boss.
“Call your boss,” Adrian said.
“What?”
“Tell him you're safe.”
She stared.
“You expect me to say that?”
“Yes.”
“I'm not safe.”
“You are safer here.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“No.”
He moved toward a bar.
“That's why I said safer.”
He poured two drinks.
She didn't take hers.
“You keep trying to get me drunk.”
“No.”
“I think you're enjoying this.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because you don't scare easily.”
Vivian crossed her arms.
“You kidnapped me.”
“And you're still arguing.”
“Because I'm angry.”
“Good.”
He set his drink down.
“Anger keeps people alive longer than panic.”
She hated that he made sense.
A man in a charcoal suit walked into the room.
“Boss.”
Adrian nodded.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel placed a file on the table.
Vivian immediately noticed the way his eyes moved toward her.
“What is it?” Adrian asked.
“Suite Four.”
“Talk.”
“The victim was a courier working for the Rossis.”
Vivian's stomach tightened.
“Name?”
Gabriel looked at Adrian.
“Matthew Hale.”
She froze.
Adrian saw it.
“You know him?”
Vivian shook her head.
“No.”
“Look at the photograph.”
Gabriel opened the file.
Vivian did.
Matthew Hale.
Late thirties.
Brown hair.
Thin scar over his eyebrow.
She knew him.
Not personally.
But she had seen his face.
At the event.
He had signed into the VIP area as a representative for one of the sponsors.
He had smiled at her.
Then asked where the private elevators were.
She had pointed him toward the corridor.
Her blood turned cold.
“He spoke to me.”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“When?”
“Earlier tonight.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked for directions.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
Gabriel pulled out another photograph.
A surveillance image showed Matthew entering the Onyx Lounge.
Beside him was a second man.
Vivian recognized him immediately.
The color drained from her face.
“That's Thomas.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Who?”
“My supervisor.”
Gabriel's expression tightened.
“Your supervisor was meeting the dead man.”
Vivian shook her head.
“No. He couldn't be.”
“Can you identify him?”
“Yes.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“Then you need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Someone inside your company is working with the Rossis.”
Vivian stared at the photo.
Her mind raced.
She had worked for the firm for three years.
She trusted Thomas.
He had been one of the few people who gave her a chance after her mother's death.
He had promoted her.
Recommended her.
Helped her pay medical bills.
“What if this photo is wrong?”
“It isn't.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know my cameras.”
She looked at Adrian.
“You've been watching the Onyx Lounge?”
“For months.”
“Why?”
“Because the lounge has been used to move things.”
“Drugs?”
“Information.”
His voice became quieter.
“Names.”
That word sent a chill through her.
“What kind of names?”
Adrian didn't answer.
Instead, he opened another file.
There was an old photograph.
A woman.
Vivian's mother.
She stopped breathing.
“No.”
Adrian placed the photograph in front of her.
“She knew my father.”
Vivian's fingers trembled.
“How?”
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I was seventeen when she disappeared.”
“You told me your father disappeared when you were nineteen.”
“Yes.”
“Your mother died two years later.”
“Yes.”
He studied her.
“What if your mother's death wasn't natural?”
Vivian felt the room tilt.
“My mother had cancer.”
“That's what the hospital record says.”
“What are you saying?”
“I'm saying someone altered the record.”
She stared at him.
“Why would anyone do that?”
“Because your mother knew something.”
“What?”
Adrian pulled another photograph from the file.
It showed her mother standing beside Adrian's father.
And between them was a little girl.
Six years old.
Vivian.
She didn't understand.
“How?”
“You were around six here.”
Vivian stared.
Her mother had always told her their family had never known the DeLucas.
“That was a lie.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Adrian leaned against the table.
“My father was investigating an organization called the Black Rose.”
Vivian had heard the name.
Everyone had.
Not a gang.
Not a family.
Something larger.
An invisible network.
It manipulated unions, ports, judges, politicians, and private corporations.
No one knew who led it.
Adrian's father had suspected the Rossis were only one branch.
“Your mother was helping my father,” Adrian said.
Vivian's voice shook.
“Helping him with what?”
“Finding the person at the top.”
“And?”
“She got too close.”
“Is that why she died?”
“I believe so.”
Vivian looked down.
Her whole childhood suddenly seemed fake.
Adrian reached for a folder.
“This was found in your mother's apartment after her death.”
He opened it.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Vivian recognized the handwriting instantly.
Her mother had written:
Keep Vivian away from the DeLucas.
Keep her away from Adrian.
If she ever remembers the red door, everything will start again.
Vivian whispered:
“The red door.”
Adrian froze.
“You remember?”
She closed her eyes.
A childhood memory surfaced.
A hotel corridor.
A red door.
Her mother holding her hand.
Men shouting.
A man kneeling in front of her.
A silver coin placed into her palm.
Vivian opened her eyes.
“There was a man.”
“What man?”
“I don't know.”
“What did he say?”
She swallowed.
“He told me not to forget the number.”
“What number?”
Vivian's breathing quickened.
“Seven.”
Adrian's expression sharpened.
Gabriel stepped closer.
“Boss.”
Adrian raised a hand.
Silence.
Then Adrian asked:
“Do you still have the coin?”
Vivian stared at him.
“I think so.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“We're going there.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone has been watching me, they'll know where I live.”
A long pause.
Adrian smiled.
“Good.”
“What?”
“You're learning.”
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
And all the warmth disappeared from his face.
“What happened?”
Gabriel watched him.
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Don't touch anything.”
He hung up.
Vivian knew immediately.
“What?”
May you like
He looked at her.
“Your apartment burned down twenty minutes ago.”
