Chapter 1 - The Cold Night
The heavy metal door of the van slammed shut, sending a metallic echo through the howling Chicago blizzard.
Sophie hit the icy pavement hard, her hands scraping against frozen asphalt as snow immediately blinded her vision. The wind screamed through Garfield Park, temperatures dropping to minus seven, biting through her thin cotton maid’s uniform like razor blades.
"Henry!" she sobbed into the freezing dark, clutching her stomach. "Please!"
Her cries were swallowed instantly by the roaring gale. The red taillights of Vincent’s van vanished into the whiteout, leaving her completely alone in the darkest, most dangerous corner of the city.
Pain shot through her lower abdomen—a sharp, cold cramp that made her drop to her knees in the drift. Her fingers were already losing feeling. The snow beneath her dress was turning wet and freezing against her skin.
I have to move, she told herself, tears freezing into tiny ice crystals on her eyelashes. I have to save my baby.
She dragged herself toward the faint, flickering yellow glow of a streetlamp two blocks away. Every breath felt like inhaling shattered glass, her lungs burning, her heart pounding with raw terror.
Her knees gave out at the curb outside a closed gas station. She collapsed against the brick wall, shivering violently, her vision swimming in gray fog.
Through the heavy snow, a pair of dark headlights appeared.
A sleek black Maybach glided to a silent stop at the curb.
The heavy rear passenger door opened. A pair of polished leather boots stepped into the snow. A tall man wearing a floor-length cashmere overcoat stepped toward her, a heavy black umbrella held over his head by a broad-shouldered bodyguard.
The man knelt beside her in the drift.
He had sharp, aristocratic features, silver hair at his temples, and eyes as dark and calculating as a stormy sea. He smelled faintly of costly tobacco and cedarwood.
"Well, well," the man murmured, his voice rich, authoritative, and smooth as silk. "Henry Russo’s little maid, tossed into the street like garbage."
Sophie looked up through blurred eyes, her lips blue. "P-please... my baby..."
The man reached out, his gloved fingers gently lifting her chin. "I know who you are, Sophie Banner. I know you patched Henry up when my men tried to take his head five months ago. And I know the Russo family just made the biggest mistake of their lives."
He looked at his bodyguard. "Dante. Put her in the car. Call Dr. Mercer. Tell him the future of Chicago's underworld is in my back seat."
Dante lifted Sophie effortlessly, wrapping her in a heavy fur blanket and placing her inside the heated Maybach.
As the car accelerated away from the blizzard, the silver-haired man looked down at Sophie, holding a gold flask of warm brandy to her lips.
"Who... who are you?" Sophie gasped, warmth slowly creeping back into her frozen hands.
May you like
The man gave a dark, enigmatic smile.
"My name is Victor Vance," he replied quietly. "The man who owns everything Henry Russo spent his life trying to steal. And from this night forward, Sophie... you are my daughter."
