Chapter 9 - THE SECRET OF THE SOUTH SIDEAbby pulled the thick leather folder into her lap, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the rusted brass clasp.
Inside lay three black-and-white photographs from thirty years ago, along with a handwritten contract bearing the gold seal of the original Chicago Syndicate.
In the photographs, a young, smiling man in oil-stained overalls stood beside a tall, muscular man in an expensive Italian suit.
Abby’s eyes widened. "That's... that's my dad. Joseph Duncan."
And beside him stood Declan’s late father—Don Arthur Gallagher.
"What is this, Declan?" Abby whispered, looking up at her husband.
Declan pulled the handwritten contract toward him, his eyes scanning the faded Italian cursive script. As he read, his jaw tightened into a rigid, dangerous line.
"My God," Declan breathed, his hazel eyes wide with genuine shock.
"What does it say?!" Abby demanded, her pulse pounding in her ears.
"Thirty years ago," Declan revealed, his voice shaking with rare emotion, "when my father fought the Lucchesi family for control of the Chicago docks... his supply truck was ambushed on the South Side. He was shot four times in the chest."
He looked at Abby, his hands gently framing her trembling fingers.
"Your father, Joseph... was working late in his auto shop around the corner," Declan continued. "He pulled my dying father out of the street, hid him in his grease pit for three days, and treated his bullet wounds with basic mechanic tools while Lucchesi enforcers searched the neighborhood."
Abby gasped, tears springing to her eyes. "My dad... saved your father's life?"
"Yes," Declan said, his voice thick. "And before my father left that auto shop, he signed this document. It's a Patto di Sangue—a Blood Covenant."
He pointed to the bottom of the yellowed paper where two bloody thumbprints rested beside the signatures.
"The covenant states," Declan read softly, "that fifty percent of all profits generated by the Chicago Docks belong eternally to Joseph Duncan and his heirs. My father set up a trust account in Zurich... but Tommy hid the paperwork after our father died so he could steal your family's share."
Abby sat frozen on the bed, her mind spinning.
She hadn't just been a maid in Gallagher House. Her family was the silent co-owner of the entire Chicago empire. For seven years, she had cleaned the marble floors of a mansion that her father’s bravery had paid for.
"How much... how much is in the Zurich trust?" Abby whispered.
Declan looked at the final page of the audit report.
May you like
A slow, breathtaking smile spread across his face.
"Three hundred and fifty million dollars, sweet girl," Declan whispered, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close as she broke into tears of pure, overwhelming shock. "You aren't just my queen, Abby. You own half of Chicago."
