Chapter 3 - Shadows of the Past
In the grandeur of the estate’s private study, surrounded by mahogany bookshelves and heavy leather armchairs, Vincent Caruso poured himself two fingers of scotch. Vanessa stood beside him, her cheeks flushed with anger, her arms folded tightly over her silk dress.
"You embarrassed me, Ethan," Vanessa snapped as Ethan entered, slamming the double doors behind him. "You humiliated me in front of every family in the city for a common maid!"
"You brought a pair of scissors to a pregnant woman's throat in my home, Vanessa," Ethan replied, his voice terrifyingly calm as he walked behind his heavy oak desk. "You brought shame to this house."
Vincent took a slow sip of his drink, his eyes narrowing. "Let us speak plain truth, Ethan. The maid is a distraction. A minor slip in decorum by my daughter does not undo an alliance that protects both our territories. We sign the merger contracts on Friday. The girl can be given a generous sum of money and sent out of Chicago before sunrise."
"She stays," Ethan said simply.
Vincent’s gaze darkened. "You risk a war over a servant?"
"I risk nothing," Ethan said, leaning forward, placing both palms flat on the desk. "I know who she is, Vincent. And more importantly, I know who wrote the note left in her room tonight."
Vanessa’s expression flickered—a brief, nearly imperceptible twitch of her eyes toward her father. Vincent, however, did not flinch.
"If someone is threatening staff under your roof, that is a security flaw on your end, Ethan," Vincent said smoothy. "Not mine. But remember this: an alliance with the Carusos guarantees your control over the docks. Without us, the unions will shatter your shipping lines before winter."
"The meeting is over," Ethan said, pointing toward the door. "Leave."
After the Carusos departed into the rain-soaked night, Ethan immediately called his most trusted head of security, Marco. Together, they descended into the mansion's vault, pulling out the private ledgers left behind by Ethan’s late father, alongside the recent intelligence reports regarding Owen’s final weeks.
As Marco flipped through the surveillance logs from the night Owen disappeared, Ethan held up the note found in Hannah’s room.
"The threat mentions her late husband," Ethan said quietly. "Hannah was briefly married to a shipyard worker named Marcus Reed—a marriage that ended in a tragic factory explosion six months ago. But Marcus was merely a cover name Owen used while hiding from Caruso's hitmen."
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"Which means," Marco realized, his jaw tightening, "Owen married her in secret to protect her under a civilian identity. And whoever blew up that warehouse thought they had killed them both."
"They missed Hannah," Ethan said, his voice cold with rage. "And now they know she is pregnant with the blood that controls the Moretti empire."
