A Starving 6-Year-Old Begged Chicago’s Most Feared Mafia Boss for $2… But When He Learned Why She Needed Exactly $2 More, His Next Move Left the Entire City Stunned.

“Everyone away from the windows!”

Lily screamed from the kitchen.

I moved toward her, but Isabel caught my sleeve.

“Don't let them take the book.”

“What book?”

“The blue ledger.”

A crash echoed from the stairwell.

Vincent glanced toward the door. “They're coming up.”

I crossed the bedroom in three strides, scooped Lily into my arms, and carried her behind the kitchen counter. She clung to my coat, her entire body trembling.

“Where's your drawing?” I whispered.

She stared at me.

“What?”

“The drawing you owe me.”

Her eyes filled with frightened confusion.

“It's in my pocket.”

“Good. Keep it safe.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say while armed men were climbing the stairs, but she reached for her coat pocket anyway. I needed her to have something ordinary to hold on to.

Something that wasn't fear.

Three knocks sounded against the apartment door.

Slow.

Deliberate.

Vincent's face hardened.

Nobody knocked like that unless they wanted the occupants to know they had time.

A man's voice carried through the darkness.

“Isabel. We know you're home.”

I recognized the voice.

Carlo Bellandi.

My second-in-command. My adviser. The man who had sat beside me at Marco's funeral and promised to help me find his killers.

The man who had called me an hour ago to complain that I had canceled dinner with the governor.

I felt a cold, controlled anger settle inside me.

Vincent leaned close.

“Boss, this doesn't make sense. Carlo's at the club.”

“Then somebody should tell the man on my doorstep.”

Another knock.

“Dominic,” Carlo called. “I know you're in there. There's no reason for this to become unpleasant.”

I moved toward the door.

Vincent caught my arm.

“You open that door, you'll be standing directly in his line of fire.”

“I know.”

“Then let me handle it.”

“No.”

I wasn't going to let Lily watch another man die because I had mistaken loyalty for safety.

I placed her behind a cabinet, then stepped into the hallway.

“Carlo,” I called through the door. “What exactly are you doing here?”

Silence.

Then a soft chuckle.

“Cleaning up an old problem.”

“Which problem?”

“The one your brother was too sentimental to solve.”

Isabel made a broken sound behind me.

There it was.

Not a confession, perhaps, but close enough to turn eleven years of suspicion into something sharp and undeniable.

I lifted the latch slightly, keeping the door chained.

“Marco trusted you.”

“Marco trusted everyone. It was his greatest weakness.”

A loud impact struck the door.

The chain snapped.

Vincent fired once into the ceiling, forcing the men outside to hesitate. I grabbed Lily and pulled her toward the bedroom while Vincent covered us.

“Move!” he shouted.

Isabel struggled to sit up.

I lifted her from the bed and carried her over my shoulder. She was frighteningly light.

We reached the back window just as the apartment door burst open.

Two men rushed inside.

Vincent fired toward the doorway, forcing them to take cover. I smashed the window latch and discovered a narrow metal fire escape beyond it.

“Can you climb?” I asked Isabel.

“Not alone.”

“You won't have to.”

I handed Lily to Vincent, lowered Isabel onto the fire escape, and guided her down the metal steps. Behind us, shouting erupted inside the apartment.

A bullet struck the railing beside my hand.

Lily buried her face against Vincent's chest.

I followed them down, taking the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, a delivery truck blocked half the alley, and freezing rain had turned the pavement slick.

Vincent pulled open the rear door of our SUV.

We had barely climbed inside when two men appeared at the alley entrance.

One raised his weapon.

Our driver accelerated.

The SUV shot forward, knocking over a row of trash cans as bullets cracked against the rear window. Lily screamed. Isabel clutched my arm. Vincent returned fire through the narrow opening before the pursuing men disappeared behind us.

Two minutes later, we were three streets away.

Lily was crying silently now.

I wrapped my coat around her shoulders.

“It's over.”

She shook her head.

“No, sir.”

“What do you mean?”

She looked at Isabel.

“Mommy said the bad men would come back.”

My chest tightened.

“Why didn't she tell me who they were?”

“Because she said the bad men have friends everywhere.”

Isabel closed her eyes.

“She was right.”

I stared at the woman who had vanished after Marco's death, the woman I had accused of abandoning him, the woman whose name had just turned my own organization against me.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

Isabel opened her eyes.

“Marco discovered that Carlo was stealing money from your legitimate businesses and using the profits to finance a private operation. When Marco confronted him, Carlo arranged the ambush.”

“And you have proof?”

“The blue ledger.”

“Where is it?”

Her gaze shifted toward Lily.

“Hidden where Carlo would never think to look.”

I waited.

Isabel swallowed.

“In your childhood home.”

My hands went still.

The house in Little Village had been demolished fifteen years earlier.

The land beneath it had been sold.

And the only person who knew what remained buried under its kitchen floor was a man who had been dead for eleven years.