Chapter 5 - Confessions in the BasementThe maintenance sub-level beneath Northwestern Memorial was cold, echoing, and smelled of damp concrete and industrial cleaning fluid.
Two hours later, Julian and Marcus were strapped securely to heavy metal folding chairs beneath the harsh glare of a single overhead bulb. Both men were disheveled, their expensive suits wrinkled, blood trickling from Marcus’s lip where one of Mateo’s enforcers had introduced him to a concrete wall.
I stood before them, hands resting inside my pockets, my face an impassive mask of ice.
“Dom! Have you completely lost your mind?!” Marcus screamed, straining against the heavy zip-ties binding his wrists to the chair. “We’re lawyers! We’re your brothers! What kind of madness is this?!”
“Shut your mouth, Marcus,” I said softly, stepping forward until I stood right in front of him. I reached into my coat, pulled out Clara’s shattered phone, and tossed it into his lap like a dead rat. “Recognize that?”
Marcus stopped yelling. He looked down at the pink screen, swallowed hard, and averted his eyes.
“I—I don't know whose phone that is,” Marcus stammered, his voice pitching an octave higher.
I didn't waste time with words. I drew my Sig Sauer P229 from my shoulder holster, flipped off the safety, and pressed the cold black barrel directly against the center of Marcus’s forehead.
Marcus let out a high-pitched, pathetic whimper. His bladder let go, a dark stain spreading across the gray fabric of his trousers.
“Dom, please—!” Julian shouted, throwing his weight against his chair. “Don't shoot him! He didn't know! He didn't know anything about the South Side meeting!”
I slowly shifted the barrel from Marcus’s forehead down to Julian’s knee.
“You talk, Julian,” I commanded, my voice devoid of all human emotion. “You talk right now, or I turn your kneecap into powder and let Marcus watch.”
Julian breathed heavily, sweat pouring down his temples. He looked at the gun barrel resting against his joint, then up into my eyes, realizing there was no bluff left to play.
“We didn't set her up to be killed, Dom—I swear to God!” Julian blurted out, tears of panic springing to his eyes.
“Set her up for what?” I roared, pressing the gun harder against his leg.
“For the audit!” Julian confessed, his voice breaking. “Clara... Clara discovered your offshore accounts six months ago. She didn't want to send you to prison, Dom! She wanted you out! She wanted you to sign over your shares of the syndicate, walk away from the violence, and leave the city with her so you could salvage whatever was left of your marriage!”
The words hit me like a physical blow. I lowered the gun a fraction of an inch.
“What are you talking about?” I whispered. “She was going to the DOJ. She had a federal filing receipt.”
“That was our insurance policy!” Julian cried out. “She told Marcus and me that if you refused to sign the separation agreement—if you chose your gold-digging mistress Serena and your mob life over her—she would pull the trigger on the federal audit. She never wanted you dead! But when she found out about Serena... she went rogue last night. She packed the hard drive, called Tommy, and drove down to the South Side to meet with Gabriel Rossi—your own cousin Gabriel, who runs our European subsidiary and wanted to buy you out—to finalize the transfer!”
The puzzle pieces violently slammed together into a horrifying picture.
Clara hadn't gone to the South Side to sell me out to Moretti. She had gone to meet my cousin Gabriel to execute a corporate coup—to strip me of my empire and force me into a quiet, normal life with her, away from the blood and the bullets.
And someone had leaked her meeting location to Lorenzo Moretti.
“Who leaked the meeting to the South Side?” I asked, my voice dropping into a terrifying whisper.
Julian shook his head frantically. “I swear to you, Dom, neither Marcus nor I gave up the route! Only three people knew Clara was heading to the 79th Street warehouse tonight: Clara herself, Tommy... and Serena Hayes.”
My blood ran completely, absolutely cold.
Serena.
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Serena, who had staged a fake panic attack tonight to keep me locked in her VIP hospital room. Serena, who had access to my private study, my phone logs, and my calendar.
Serena had known about Clara’s movements. And Serena wanted my empire—and me—all to herself.
