Chapter 17 - Whispers of the PastBack in Boston, the remnants of the old syndicates were nothing more than dust in history books.
The federal penitentiaries where Arthur Vance and his inner circle were locked away served as a silent reminder to the criminal underworld that the rules of the city had permanently changed. Power was no longer measured by blood, fear, or extortion; it was measured by loyalty, protection, and legacy.
Kyle Mercer’s name wasn't even spoken in polite society anymore. Convicted on multiple federal charges, he sat in a sterile, fluorescent-lit cell, scrolling mentally through the endless loop of his own mistakes. He had possessed everything—wealth, status, a woman who had tried to love him—and he had thrown it all away in a blind rage of arrogance and cruelty.
Now, whenever he turned on the television in the common room, he saw her face.
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Sophie Duca, gracing the cover of national magazines, speaking at global conferences, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with senators and philanthropists, her hand resting gracefully on the arm of the most feared and respected man in the country.
Kyle would turn off the screen, bury his face in his hands, and realize the agonizing truth: he had lost a queen because he was too blind to realize she wasn't a servant.
