Chapter 10 - The Queen of ChicagoThree months later, the rain was pouring down once again over the Chicago skyline, slicking the dark asphalt outside the Moretti Tower.
Inside the executive boardroom on the seventieth floor, sixty of the most powerful underworld bosses, politicians, and syndicate capos sat in absolute silence around the massive mahogany table. No one whispered. No one dared to look away.
At the head of the table sat Dominic Moretti. And right beside him, wearing a bespoke midnight-blue Armani suit and diamond cufflinks, sat me.
The heavy double doors swung open, and a terrified, bruised Vanessa Whitmore was dragged into the center of the room by two armed guards. She looked at me, her eyes wide with absolute, trembling terror, remembering the night she thought I was just a broke delivery girl.
"Avery... please," Vanessa sobbed, collapsing onto her knees against the polished marble floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—"
I stood up slowly, adjusting my cuffs, and walked down the length of the table until I stood right above her. I looked down at the woman who had tried to crush my spirit, knowing the arithmetic of my life had finally balanced out.
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"In this city," I said, my voice echoing coldly through the silent room, "you never judge a delivery woman by her chipped nails."
I turned to Dominic, who gave me a nod of absolute respect, and then looked back down at Vanessa.
