Chapter 6 - The Ghost from the Past
Down in the subterranean security control center of the Russo estate, monitors flickered with live-feed thermal imaging from twenty different camera angles surrounding the sprawling property.
Dominic stood behind the main console, his hands braced against the steel edge, staring at a small, encrypted burner phone resting inside a plastic evidence tray on the stainless-steel desk.
"Is it tapped?" Dominic asked without looking up.
"Cleaned and patched through the voice-distortion analyzer," Julian replied, typing rapidly into his keyboard. "It’s a direct line from Salvatore Moretti. He wants to talk to you, Boss."
Dominic straightened up. He reached out, picked up the burner phone, and pressed it to his ear.
"Moretti," Dominic said, his voice dropping into an arctic chill. "You have thirty seconds before I trace this signal and send a team to tear down whatever rat hole you're hiding in."
A raspy, arrogant laugh echoed through the speaker.
“Always so impatient, Dominic,” Salvatore Moretti’s voice crackled over the line. “Relax. I’m not calling to start a war today. I’m calling to congratulate you.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed. "Get to the point."
“Word travels fast in the North End, Russo. We hear whispers that your little household has expanded. A lovely nanny... who isn't just changing diapers anymore. Rumor has it she’s carrying a little syndicate heir for you.”
A cold, suffocating silence descended over the control room. Julian stopped typing, his hand hovering over his sidearm, his eyes locking onto Dominic’s back.
Dominic didn't raise his voice. He didn't threaten. His tone became so quiet, so devoid of human warmth, that it sounded like a recording from a tomb.
"If anyone from your family ever speaks her name again," Dominic whispered, "I won't just burn your warehouses. I will hunt down every single blood relative bearing your name and salt the earth where they stood."
“Ooh, fierce!” Moretti mocked, though a slight tremor of genuine nervousness betrayed his bravado. “You think you can keep her locked in that limestone castle forever? You think walls and guards can protect a girl from the outside world? She lived in the real world once, Dominic. She knows what’s out there. And sooner or later... she’s going to realize that living as a prisoner in your gilded cage is worse than death.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The line went dead.
Dominic lowered the phone slowly. He didn't smash it. He simply set it back down inside the plastic tray with a deliberate, calculated precision.
"Trace the ping," Dominic ordered, his voice flat and deadly.
"We’re on it," Julian muttered, hitting enter. "It bounced off three relay towers in downtown Chicago. Professional burner setup. But we have a vector."
"Double the perimeter guard," Dominic commanded, turning toward the elevator. "Activate thermal drones along the southern treeline. And get Dr. Vance up to the master suite right now. No more delays. I want her examined, monitored, and protected by every medical resource we possess."
Upstairs in the master suite, Norah was pacing the length of the Persian rug, her hands resting protectively over her swollen abdomen.
The warning bells in her head were screaming louder than ever.
Dominic thought he could protect her by locking her away, by surrounding her with guns and walls. But Moretti knew. Somehow, the syndicate had found out about the pregnancy. And if the Morettis knew, Norah was no longer just a hidden variable in Dominic’s life—she was a target. A weapon to be used against him.
The double doors clicked open.
Dr. Vance—a tall, silver-haired man with cold blue eyes and a leather medical bag—stepped into the room, flanked by two armed guards.
"Mrs. Russo," the doctor said smoothly, offering a tight, professional smile. "Mr. Russo instructed me to conduct a full prenatal evaluation. Please lie down on the bed."
Norah stared at the doctor, then at the armed guards standing like statues at the door.
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The walls of the cage weren't just closing in anymore. They were locking shut.
And she knew, with absolute certainty, that if she didn't find a way to take control of her own destiny, she and her unborn child would be crushed beneath the grinding gears of a war they never asked to fight.
