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The venue address on the elegant, gold-embossed card wasn’t a luxury hotel or a private estate in downtown Chicago. It was the Grand Meridian Opera House—a crumbling, century-old architectural behemoth owned entirely by a shadowy shell company called Vanguard Logistics. / Chapter 5 / 10

Chapter 5 - THE BLACKOUTInstantly, every single light in the Grand Meridian Opera House died.

Darkness swallowed the opulent hall, plunging hundreds of high-society criminals, politicians, and syndicate bosses into total panic. Shouts of confusion echoed off the walls. The bodyguards lunged blindly, their hands grasping at empty silk as I sidestepped them with practiced ease.

"What is happening?!" Valentina screamed from the altar, the sound of shattering crystal indicating she had dropped her glass.

"Keep your guns holstered, you idiots! Someone find the backup generator!" Adrian roared, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.

A second later, the massive overhead projection screen behind the altar—intended to display romantic photo montages of Adrian and Valentina—flickered to life.

Instead of photos of the happy couple, the screen illuminated the dark hall with a glaring, blinding white light.

Bold, black text filled the screen: MORETTI SYNDICATE: FINANCIAL LEDGER & OFFSHORE ACCOUNTS (2023-2026)

Gasps echoed through the room.

Below the title, scrolling files began to play automatically: scanned bank transfers to offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands, cargo manifests listing illegal arms shipments disguised as medical supplies, and audio waveforms of intercepted phone calls between Adrian Moretti and corrupt federal judges.

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The boss didn't blink. He reached out, his ink-stained fingers brushing the loose strands of hair away from my forehead, his touch terrifyingly gentle yet completely immovable. "A ghost doesn't know her own reflection, maybe," he murmured, his breath hot against my temple. "Look at the corner of your left eye. The faint crescent scar. My wife got it falling off a horse in Sicily when she was twelve. You have it, too. Down to the millimeter."

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"Turn that off!" Adrian screamed, pulling a pistol from his holster and firing two wild shots directly into the projection screen.

The bullets punched holes through the canvas, but the data kept scrolling relentlessly.

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