Chapter 7 - The Uncle’s ShadowThe next morning, the heavy iron gates of the Vale estate swung open to admit a sleek, black Mercedes Maybach that belonged to nobody in Dominic's inner circle.
Dominic was waiting at the front portico when the car came to a smooth, silent halt.
The rear door opened, and Victor Vale stepped out.
He was sixty-two, with silver-streaked hair slicked back with expensive pomade, a custom three-piece Brioni suit, and the cold, dead eyes of a shark that had spent decades eating its own species. Behind him stepped two armed bodyguards, their hands resting casually inside their suit jackets.
"Nephew," Victor purred, spreading his arms in a wide, theatrical gesture of familial warmth that didn't reach his eyes. "You look stressed. Running an empire must be terribly exhausting work."
Dominic didn't move. He stood on the stone steps, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his posture radiating lethal calm.
"You're a long way from the south side, Uncle," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a dangerous register. "And trespassing on Vale property without an invitation is a great way to end up fertilizer for my rose garden."
Victor chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. "Always so dramatic, Dominic. Always ready for a war. But I’m not here to fight. I’m here to offer a friendly reminder about loose ends."
Victor stepped closer, lowering his voice so the guards couldn't hear.
"I heard you hired a new housekeeper for the east wing," Victor continued, his eyes gleaming with malicious amusement. "A big girl from Waukegan. Grace Miller, isn't it? Fascinating resume. Worked for me six years ago, didn't she? Handled some very sensitive shipping manifests right before our Chicago docks got raided by federal agents."
Dominic’s blood ran cold. He kept his face completely blank, a mask of carved stone.
"She was a low-level file clerk," Dominic said steadily.
"Was she?" Victor smiled, pulling a slim gold cigarette case from his breast pocket and tapping a cigarette against it. "Or was she planted there to watch us? And now, she’s sitting inside your fortress, whispering in your disabled brother's ear every single night. Tell me, Dominic... do you really know whose payroll she's on?"
May you like
Victor leaned in close, his breath smelling of stale tobacco and scotch.
"Because if you don't kill her first, nephew... I promise you, she’s going to destroy everything you’ve built."
