Chapter 2 - The Iron Fortress
The bulletproof Maybach cut through the freezing Chicago drizzle, the rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers the only sound inside the leather-lined cabin. Arthur Costa stared out the tinted window, nursing a glass of scotch, completely ignoring her. Nora sat stiffly on the opposite side, her hands folded over her velvet skirt.
She hadn’t looked back when they crossed the Continental’s threshold. Richard and Diane had probably been too busy counting the digits on Arthur’s wire transfer to notice she was gone. Sold off to settle a ledger, traded to a monster with a reputation for bleeding his enemies dry. But as Nora looked at the exhausted set of Arthur’s broad shoulders, she realized the syndicate whispered about a ghost. The real Arthur Costa wasn’t a bloodthirsty animal; he was a drowning man.
"We have rules," Arthur broke the silence, his voice a low, gravelly rasp without turning his head. "You live in the west wing. You don't enter my private study without an invite. You feed the kids, you keep them out of my way during business hours, and you don't ask questions about what's in the basement or the courtyard. In exchange, your father never touches you again, your name is wiped from the Hayes ledgers, and you have access to unlimited funds. Do we understand each other?"
"Crystal," Nora replied, her voice cool and level. "And what happens when the kids make me want to walk into traffic?"
Arthur finally turned his dark eyes toward her. A flicker of genuine amusement crossed his face, disappearing as quickly as it came. "Then you pour yourself a glass of whiskey like I do and you deal with it."
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The car turned through heavy wrought-iron gates that loomed like prison bars against the black sky. The Costa estate was a fortress of cold stone, towering oak trees, and security cameras humming in the drizzle. It wasn’t a home; it was a compound.
When the car stopped, Arthur didn't even wait to open her door. A burly guard in a black overcoat did it for her. Nora stepped out into the biting wind, her four-inch heels clicking sharply against the cobblestone courtyard. She pulled her coat tight around her shoulders, took a deep breath of the freezing air, and walked through the heavy double doors into her new prison.
