Chapter 5 - Night of the Crimson Rain
The rumor spread through the Chicago underbelly like wildfire.
By mid-afternoon, black sedans were lined up along the private drive of the Varelli estate. Men in dark overcoats stood in small groups near the iron gates, speaking in hushed tones while security guards checked their credentials.
Inside the grand parlor, the heavy velvet drapes were drawn tight. The room was lit only by the soft glow of firelight, creating an atmosphere of mourning and impending power shifts.
Dominic Varelli sat in the primary leather armchair near the fireplace, a glass of expensive scotch held comfortably in his hand. He was forty years old, slick, with combed-back dark hair and a sharp mustache that failed to hide his smug expression.
Standing around the perimeter of the room were six senior captains of the Varelli organization—men who controlled the docks, the unions, the construction firms, and the gambling dens across the city.
“It’s a tragedy,” Dominic announced to the room, putting on a show of deep sorrow. “My cousin was a visionary, but his health simply gave out. As acting chairman, I will assume full operational control of the Varelli holdings effective immediately.”
One of the older captains, an iron-haired man named Bruno, stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Where is Dr. Evans? I thought he was attending to Luca.”
“Dr. Evans is securing the necessary death certificates at his clinic,” Dominic lied smoothly. “And the household manager, Mrs. Vale, is handling the private arrangements.”
“And where is the maid?” a voice echoed from the shadowed archway at the back of the parlor.
Dominic’s glass paused halfway to his lips.
The heavy double doors of the parlor swung open with a resounding thud.
Mara Collins walked into the room first. She was no longer wearing her gray servant’s apron. She wore a simple, elegant dark wool dress, her chestnut hair pinned back neatly, holding a thick leather folder beneath her arm.
Behind her stepped Luca Varelli.
The room went dead, terrifyingly silent.
Luca was dressed in a tailored black three-piece suit that fit his broad shoulders impeccably. His dark hair was combed back, his jaw clean-shaven, and his hazel eyes blazed with an absolute, terrifying brilliance. He didn't lean on a cane. He didn't limp. He walked into the center of the room like a king returning to reclaim his throne from scavengers.
Dominic’s scotch glass slipped from his fingers, crashing onto the marble hearth and shattering into a hundred pieces.
“Luca...” Dominic gasped, his face draining of color until he looked like a corpse himself. “You... you were—”
“Dying?” Luca finished the sentence for him, his deep baritone rolling through the parlor like thunder over the lake. “I was, Dominic. But unfortunately for you, my maid knows how to read an invoice.”
Luca nodded to Mara.
Mara stepped forward without a single trace of fear, opening the leather folder in front of Captain Bruno and the other council members.
“These are certified copies of bank transfers from Aegis Pharmaceuticals to Dominic Varelli’s private account in Zurich,” Mara stated clearly, her voice steady and precise. “Along with receipts for synthetic neurotoxin compounds ordered by Dr. Evans under Dominic’s corporate tax ID.”
Bruno’s eyes flew open as he scanned the documents. He looked up at Dominic with pure, unfiltered disgust. “You poisoned your own blood?”
“It’s a lie!” Dominic screamed, reaching instinctively for the pistol hidden inside his jacket armpit holster.
Before his fingers could even touch the leather holster, two sharp gunshots rang out through the parlor.
Matteo stood at the side door, his heavy revolver raised, twin ribbons of blue smoke curling from the barrel.
Dominic collapsed onto his knees, clutching his shoulder, his face contorted in agony as his blood stained the Persian rug beneath him.
The other captains in the room stepped back immediately, raising their hands in total submission to Luca.
Luca walked over, stopping directly in front of his wounded cousin. He reached down, grabbed Dominic by the lapels of his suit, and pulled him up until their faces were inches apart.
“You took my father’s name,” Luca whispered, his voice dangerously soft. “You took my money. And you tried to turn my own home into my tomb.”
“Luca... please...” Dominic choked out, blood dripping from his lip. “Family...”
“Family doesn't poison the air I breathe,” Luca said coldly. He looked over at Matteo. “Take him to the basement. Call the federal prosecutors who have been investigating the south side shipping frauds. Give them Dominic, Dr. Evans, and Evelyn Vale on a silver platter.”
Bruno looked shocked. “You’re giving him to the feds, Luca? We handle our own problems.”
Luca turned to face the captains, his presence towering over every man in the room.
“The old ways brought poison into my bedroom,” Luca declared, looking at each captain in turn. “The Varelli organization is changing. The illegal distribution ends today. We go fully legitimate, or every single one of you can follow Dominic into a federal cell.”
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No one argued. No one raised a voice.
Luca turned his back on them, walking straight toward Mara, who was standing quietly near the open parlor doors where fresh air was finally flowing freely into the house.
