Chapter 2 - The Man Who Should Have Been Dead
Vincent reached the elevator three seconds too late.
The doors were already closing.
He caught only a glimpse of a dark coat.
“Stop that elevator.”
Marco grabbed his phone and contacted security.
Vincent did not wait.
He took the service stairs.
Eighty-two floors would have been insanity, but the elevator stopped on seventy-nine.
Vincent exited the stairwell there and crossed the private executive level.
Empty.
Too empty.
“Security team is sweeping the building,” Marco said behind him.
Vincent turned.
“I told you to stay upstairs.”
“And I ignored you.”
“Good.”
The elevator doors stood open.
No one inside.
A black object lay on the floor.
Vincent crouched.
A baby pacifier.
Blue.
His pulse stopped.
He picked it up.
“Noah.”
Marco’s expression changed.
“You think Madison was here?”
“No.”
Vincent examined it.
Brand-new.
No scratches.
Placed deliberately.
“This is a message.”
“Someone wants you scared.”
“It’s working.”
Marco looked at him.
Vincent Carter had never admitted fear before.
That scared Marco more than the pacifier did.
They returned upstairs.
Security footage showed a man entering the building wearing a maintenance uniform.
No clear face.
He had used stolen credentials.
He reached the private floor, stood outside the bedroom for less than thirty seconds, then left.
Vincent watched frame by frame.
“What did he want?”
Marco asked.
“To know whether I received the message.”
“Or whether Madison contacted you.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Explain.”
Marco hesitated.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you.”
Vincent’s patience vanished.
“Tonight seems full of those.”
“The man in the lobby photograph.”
“My father’s driver.”
“Anthony Bell.”
Vincent remembered him.
His father’s closest friend.
Vincent had been nine when Anthony supposedly died in a boating accident.
No body had been recovered.
Two months later, Vincent’s mother died in a fire.
A year after that, his father, Frank Carter, took complete control of the organization.
Vincent inherited it at twenty-six when Frank died of a heart attack.
Everything had seemed simple.
At least, as simple as a mafia family could be.
“What does Anthony Bell have to do with Madison?”
“I don’t know,” Marco said. “But three weeks ago, she asked me about him.”
Vincent stared.
“Why?”
“She found an old photograph.”
“Where?”
“In your father’s study.”
Vincent’s father’s private study had remained locked since his death.
Vincent rarely entered it.
Madison sometimes used the room because it had the best afternoon light.
“What photograph?”
Marco removed his phone again.
A scanned image appeared.
Frank Carter stood outside a restaurant.
Beside him was Anthony Bell.
And between them was Vincent’s mother, Evelyn.
On the back, handwriting read:
Anthony,
If Frank discovers the truth, take Vincent and go.
E.
Vincent stopped breathing.
“What truth?”
“I don’t know.”
“And Madison saw this?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she ask me?”
Marco’s expression almost said the answer.
Because you were never there.
Vincent turned away.
“When did she ask you?”
“Three weeks before delivery.”
“And?”
“I told her Anthony was dead.”
“But she didn’t believe you.”
“No.”
Vincent looked again at the lobby photo.
Anthony had aged.
But it was him.
The eyes were unmistakable.
“Madison contacted him.”
“Looks that way.”
“Why?”
“Maybe she was afraid.”
“Of me?”
Marco did not answer.
Vincent’s phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
COME ALONE.
He typed:
Is Madison there?
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
No answer.
Vincent grabbed his coat.
Marco blocked the doorway.
“No.”
“Move.”
“You’re walking into a trap.”
“If Madison is there—”
“She probably isn’t.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Then I’ll find whoever knows where she is.”
“You’re not thinking.”
“I haven’t been thinking for fifteen days.”
“That doesn’t mean start now by getting yourself killed.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Move.”
Marco sighed.
“I’m following you.”
“The message said alone.”
“Then I’ll follow badly.”
Despite everything, Vincent almost smiled.
They left through the underground garage.
Vincent drove himself.
No convoy.
No bodyguards.
For the first time in years, Chicago seemed unfamiliar.
He drove past the hospital where Noah had been born.
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
He could still turn around.
He could tell his men to find Madison.
Bring her home.
Protect her.
Put guards outside every door.
That was what old Vincent would have done.
But the letter stayed in his pocket.
Please do not look for me until you understand what you are actually looking for.
Maybe Madison had not left only because he abandoned her at the hospital.
Maybe that had simply been the final wound.
The abandoned house stood behind rusted iron fencing.
Vincent parked one block away.
Marco’s car stopped farther back.
Vincent entered alone.
The door was unlocked.
Inside smelled of dust and old wood.
This had been his childhood home before his father became wealthy enough to move them downtown.
Vincent remembered running through the hallway.
His mother laughing.
Then smoke.
Sirens.
A funeral.
He had not returned since.
A light glowed in the kitchen.
Vincent entered.
Anthony Bell sat at the table.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
“Sit down, Vincent.”
Vincent remained standing.
“Where is my wife?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere you cannot reach unless she wants you to.”
Vincent’s fists clenched.
“If you harmed her—”
Anthony laughed once.
“Still Frank’s son.”
The words landed like an insult.
“Do not speak about my father.”
“Why? Because he taught you loyalty? Family? Honor?”
Anthony stood.
“He destroyed every one of those things.”
“Madison contacted you.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She found Evelyn’s letter.”
Vincent froze.
“What letter?”
Anthony walked toward an old cabinet and removed a metal box.
He placed it on the table.
“Your mother wrote me before she died.”
“Why would Madison care?”
“Because your father’s past became her present.”
Vincent’s voice lowered.
“Explain.”
Anthony studied him.
“Frank Carter built his empire by betraying families who trusted him. When Madison began asking questions, people noticed.”
“Who?”
“Men who have spent twenty years protecting what Frank did.”
“My father is dead.”
“Secrets aren’t.”
Vincent felt the room tighten.
“Why take Madison?”
“I didn’t take her.”
“She chose to come with me.”
That hurt.
“She trusted you?”
“She trusted a stranger because her husband had taught her he would not be there when she needed him.”
Vincent looked away.
Anthony’s expression softened slightly.
“She was terrified after the birth.”
“Of what?”
“Not just dying.”
“Then what?”
“Leaving Noah alone in your world.”
Vincent said nothing.
Anthony pushed the metal box toward him.
“Your mother had the same fear.”
Vincent opened it.
Inside were letters.
Photographs.
Bank documents.
One photograph showed Frank Carter beside three men.
Vincent recognized two old capos.
The third was Senator Thomas Keane.
The same senator currently running for governor.
Another photograph showed Vincent’s mother holding him as a baby.
Anthony stood beside her.
On the back:
If anything happens to me, Anthony knows why.
Vincent looked up.
“What happened to my mother?”
Anthony’s face became grim.
“The fire wasn’t an accident.”
Vincent stared.
“My father told me—”
“Your father lied.”
The words cut cleanly.
“Frank discovered Evelyn was collecting evidence against him. She wanted out. She wanted to take you.”
Vincent’s mouth went dry.
“So he killed her?”
Anthony did not answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
Vincent backed away from the table.
“No.”
“I tried to get you both out.”
“You were his friend.”
“I was your mother’s friend.”
Something about the way he said it made Vincent stare.
Anthony looked away.
Vincent understood there was another truth buried there.
But he did not ask.
Not yet.
“Why did Madison get involved?”
“Because she found one of Evelyn’s letters addressed to you.”
“Where is it?”
“With Madison.”
“Then call her.”
“No.”
Vincent slammed his hand against the table.
“Anthony.”
“You don’t get to command your way into her life.”
“I need to know she’s safe.”
“She is.”
“I need to hear her voice.”
Anthony’s expression became sharp.
“You needed to hear her voice while she was bleeding in a hospital too.”
Vincent went still.
Anthony walked closer.
“You know what she told me?”
Vincent could not answer.
“She said the worst part was not the pain.”
He paused.
“It was hearing every nurse say, ‘Your husband is on his way,’ until they stopped saying it.”
Vincent looked at the floor.
“She thought she was going to die.”
Anthony’s voice softened.
“And she thought her final memory would be waiting for you.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
He had faced men holding guns without blinking.
This was worse.
“What does she want from me?”
“That’s the first intelligent question you’ve asked.”
Anthony returned to the table.
“She wants you to decide whether you want a family or an empire.”
Vincent opened his eyes.
“I can protect both.”
“No. That is exactly what Frank thought.”
Vincent looked toward the photographs.
“I’m not my father.”
“Prove it.”
His phone vibrated.
Marco.
Vincent ignored it.
Again.
Then again.
He answered.
“What?”
Marco’s breathing was heavy.
“Get out.”
Vincent looked at Anthony.
“Why?”
“We found the man who planted the pacifier.”
“Who?”
“Russo’s people?”
“No.”
Marco paused.
“He works for someone inside our organization.”
Vincent felt cold.
“Name.”
“I don’t have one yet.”
A sound came from outside.
Car doors.
Multiple.
Anthony moved toward the dark window.
“You were followed.”
“I came alone.”
Anthony looked at him.
“No, Vincent.”
His face changed.
“You weren’t followed here.”
Vincent heard footsteps surrounding the house.
Anthony reached beneath the table and pulled out a pistol.
Vincent’s phone buzzed again.
A photograph appeared.
Madison holding baby Noah.
Taken less than a minute earlier.
She had no idea she was being watched.
Below it was one sentence.
YOUR WIFE ISN’T AS SAFE AS HE THINKS.
May you like
Then someone knocked three times on the front door.
Anthony whispered, “They found her.”
