Chapter 3 - Shadows in the Syndicate
The private airstrip in upstate New York was shrouded in fog when Adrian’s black SUV pulled up to the hangar doors at 3:00 a.m.
Silas stood waiting near the boarding ramp of a non-registered private jet. His trench coat was dusted with rainwater, his face scarred and stoic as he tossed a pair of suppressed weapons onto the hood of the vehicle.
“The Queens house was torched twenty minutes after you cleared the tunnel, boss,” Silas reported, handing Adrian a encrypted tablet. “Colin and Julian are reporting to the Syndicate Capos right now that Grace Bennett kidnapped Clara months ago, went insane, and killed Eleanor out of jealousy.”
Grace gasped, standing near the SUV door with Clara asleep in her arms and Lucy clinging to her hand. “They’re blaming me?!”
“Of course they are,” Adrian said, stepping out into the cold air. “If they paint you as a lunatic, nobody questions why you ended up dead. And nobody looks closely at Eleanor’s death.”
He turned to Grace, looking at her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
“Why didn't you come to me eight months ago, Grace? Why did you hide my daughter in a yellow room in Queens instead of walking straight into my office?”
Grace met his gaze without flinching.
“Because eight months ago, Mr. Adrian, you were surrounded by Colin’s guards,” Grace said softly, her voice filled with raw truth. “Every coffee you drank passed through their hands. Every route your car took was planned by Colin. If I had brought Clara to your mansion, they would have poisoned her bottle before she reached the nursery, and you would have died thinking it was an illness.”
Adrian’s chest tightened. He looked down at his daughter’s tiny face peeking out from the wool blanket. She was breathing softly, safe from the storm.
Grace had carried the weight of the entire world on her shoulders—living in constant fear, working as a humble maid by day, nursing the heiress of the largest crime family in New York by night—just to keep his child alive.
“You saved my family,” Adrian said, his voice dropping into a quiet, solemn promise. “My life belongs to you now, Grace. Yours and Lucy’s.”
“We need to find Eleanor’s missing evidence,” Grace said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the antique pendant Eleanor had given her before the fatal ambush. “This key was in the music box hidden compartment. Eleanor told me it opens a safe deposit box at the Federal Reserve Bank on Wall Street. She said it contained every wiretap, every contract, and every bank transfer proving Colin and Julian were selling Whitmore weapons to foreign cartels.”
Adrian took the small silver key. Engraved on its side was Eleanor’s initials.
“Silas,” Adrian commanded.
“Sir?”
“Fly Grace and the children to the mountain compound in Vermont. Put twenty of our best men on the perimeter. If anyone approaches without my clearance, shoot first.”
“And what about you, boss?” Silas asked, racking the bolt on his assault rifle.
May you like
Adrian looked toward the city skyline glowing in the distance through the fog.
“I’m going to the Syndicate Council meeting,” Adrian said coldly. “It’s time to see how many of my Capos still remember who built this city.”
