Chapter 1 - The Bloodline Ledger The heavy oak doors of the Vatello estate study were sealed tight against the Chicago gale, but Marco Ferrante felt as though a frozen window had shattered straight through his ribs. Nine years.
Now, sitting across from Dante at the mahogany conference table, Marco watched his boss stare blindly at a dossier. Dante’s jaw muscles twitched once—a microscopic tell that only Marco, after twenty years of service, could spot.
"The boy," Dante said, his voice dropping into that low, flat register that preceded a firing squad. "Run the plates of his face, Marco. Pull the facial recognition from every camera within three blocks of the Grand Avenue market."
Marco’s throat went dry as dust. "Dante... it’s a street kid. Chicago is full of orphans and grifters. The doctor’s report from the North Shore clinic was absolute. You know it was."
"The doctors are men of science, Marco. Science is just a tally of what we currently understand," Dante murmured, standing up with a slow, deliberate grace that made the room’s temperature drop ten degrees. He walked to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the snow-choked gardens. "A man can be infertile for a decade, or he can be lied to by a private clinic paid off by a rival family wanting to neuter the bloodline. But eyes like that? You don't manufacture those in a gutter."
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The intercom chimed softly. Nico’s voice cut through the heavy air. "Boss. You have an emergency in the main boardroom. The nine regional captains... they didn't wait for your summons. They’re inside."
Dante didn't flinch. A cold, dangerous smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Let them sit. A king doesn't run to his throne; he lets the court wonder if he’s already executing them in the hallways."
