Chapter 3 - The Ghost of PilsenThe neighborhood of Pilsen was a maze of colorful murals, narrow brick tenements, and the rich scent of street tacos drifting on the warm afternoon breeze. It was worlds away from the sterile glass towers of the Loop where the Vale empire operated in luxury.
My Maybach crawled down Elmwood Street, sticking out like a blood-stained diamond in a pile of gravel. I ordered the driver to park two blocks away. I walked the rest of the distance alone, my bespoke Italian leather shoes crunching on the gravel sidewalk.
Number 412 was a tired, three-story brick walk-up with peeling white paint and fire escapes crisscrossing the facade like iron spiderwebs.
I pushed open the front glass door, which hung loosely on a broken hinge, and climbed the creaking wooden stairs to the third floor. Apartment 3B.
Standing outside the door, I could hear muffled sounds through the thin wood. A child's high-pitched giggle, the clatter of plastic toys, and Maya’s gentle, exhausted voice soothing someone down.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
I raised my fist to knock, but my knuckles stopped an inch from the wood. What was I going to say? Surprise, I’m the monster who broke your heart, and by the way, I’m taking over?
Before I could process my own panic, the door swung open.
Maya stood on the threshold holding a bag of groceries, her face pale, her green eyes widening in absolute horror as she came face-to-face with me.
For a second, neither of us breathed.
"Adrian," she whispered, the name catching in her throat like broken glass. She instinctively stepped backward, trying to shield the interior of the apartment with her own body.
"Hello, Maya," I said, my voice thick, betraying every ounce of the iron control I usually prided myself on. "Are you going to invite me in, or do we need to talk in the hallway while my men secure the perimeter downstairs?"
Her eyes darted past me, scanning the empty stairwell, terror flashing across her features.
"You're insane," she hissed, her voice trembling but sharp. "You found me. How did you find me so fast?"
"I own this city, Maya. You should have known better than to try to hide in my backyard." I stepped forward, not violently, but with an inexorable weight that forced her to retreat inside. I crossed the threshold, kicking the door shut behind me with a soft, final click.
The apartment was painfully small, yet immaculately clean. A second-hand floral sofa sat against one wall, surrounded by a fortress of plastic storage bins and children's books. A small kitchenette featured a single pot simmering on a hot plate.
And sitting on a colorful play mat in the center of the room were the triplets.
Three pairs of wide, intelligent eyes turned up to look at the towering stranger standing in their living room.
The little boy with the serious expression. The little girl who had looked at me with my own gray eyes in the park. And another little boy, currently chewing on a plastic spoon, blinking up at me with identical slate-gray irises.
May you like
All three of them. My blood. My legacy.
"Don't look at them," Maya cried out, dropping her grocery bag onto the linoleum floor with a sharp crash. She threw herself between me and the children, her arms spread wide, her chest heaving as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. "Don't you dare look at them, Adrian! You gave up your right to them four years ago!"
