Chapter 4 - The Shadows of the Past
By 8:00 PM, Dominic’s private limousine pulled up outside a small, run-down house on the eastern edge of the city.
The neighborhood was lined with cracked sidewalks, overgrown lawns, and warm yellow lights glowing behind frayed window curtains.
Renley stepped out of the luxury car, her old bicycle carefully strapped to the rear rack by Dominic’s driver. Dominic himself stepped out into the cold night air, wrapped in a long black wool coat, flanked by two discreet guards who stayed near the vehicle.
“Is this where you live, child?” Dominic asked, looking at the small wood-frame house.
“Yes, sir,” Renley said. “With my grandmother. My parents... they passed away in a factory fire when I was four.”
Dominic stared at the modest house. “Walter lived like this. No luxury. Just hard work and small rooms.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a silver pen and a heavy black business card with a single telephone number embossed in gold.
He handed it to Renley.
“If anyone ever threatens you,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a stern, protective register, “if anyone asks you about Walter, or if you ever need help with anything in your life—food, money, protection—you call this number. Do you understand me?”
Renley took the card. The heavy metal felt cold in her small hand. “Thank you, Mr. Vance.”
“And Renley?” Dominic added, staring down the quiet street. “Thank you for bringing him his soup. You gave my brother something I never could. Kindness without price.”
Renley watched as the grand limousine pulled away, its red taillights disappearing into the dark city streets. She hoisted her bicycle onto the porch and slipped through the front door.
Inside, the house smelled of boiled cabbage and old tea.
Her grandmother, Evelyn Hart, was sitting in a rocker near an electric heater, knitting a grey wool blanket. Her hands were swollen with arthritis, and her hair was snow-white.
“Renley?” Evelyn called out anxiously, setting her knitting needles aside. “Where have you been, sweetheart? Miss Martha called from the kitchen an hour ago! She said you didn’t come back with the delivery bags!”
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” Renley said, walking over and kneeling beside her grandmother’s chair. “I had a strange delivery. Up in the hills.”
Evelyn frowned, resting her hand on Renley’s head. “The hills? Wealthy people don’t order from the community kitchen, child.”
“It was for Mr. Pike,” Renley explained quietly. “Well... for his brother. Mr. Pike was actually named Walter Vance.”
Evelyn froze. The color drained from her face so fast that Renley thought her grandmother was going to faint. Her hand gripped Renley’s shoulder with surprising strength.
“Vance?” Evelyn whispered, her voice trembling with sudden terror. “Did you say Vance?”
“Yes,” Renley said, confused. “His brother is named Dominic Vance. He lives in a huge mansion with iron gates and armed guards. He was really sad about Mr. Pike, Grandma. He even cried.”
Evelyn gripped the armrests of her rocker, her breathing shallow and fast.
“Oh, God,” Evelyn breathed, looking toward the dark front window. “Oh, dear God... he’s come back.”
Renley sat up. “Grandma, what’s wrong? Do you know them?”
Evelyn looked down at her granddaughter, her eyes wide with a long-buried fear.
“Renley... twenty years ago, before your father met your mother, he worked as a mechanic down at the riverfront docks,” Evelyn whispered, her voice barely audible. “The docks weren’t owned by the city. They were owned by the Vance family. There was a war... a terrible, bloody war between the Vances and the Rossi family.”
Renley’s heart began to race.
“Your father saw something he shouldn’t have seen,” Evelyn continued, a tear slipping down her wrinkled cheek. “He saw Victor Vance execute a dock worker. It was Walter Vance who stepped in and saved your father’s life. Walter gave your father money, told him to hide, and took the evidence himself. That was the night Walter disappeared from the mafia!”
Renley gasped, clutching her small chest.
May you like
Mr. Pike—the gentle old man who loved vegetable soup and complained about cold draughts—had saved her father’s life two decades ago.
“Walter protected this family,” Evelyn whispered, pulling Renley into a desperate hug. “And now he’s gone. Renley... if Victor Vance finds out who you are, or that Walter knew you... we aren’t safe!”
