Chapter 7 - Shadows of the Past
Three years passed.
The city of Chicago entered an era of unprecedented peace and economic prosperity under the guidance of the Romano family. The old days of bloody turf wars and street battles were replaced by legitimate business expansion, political influence, and community investments.
The Romano Children’s Foundation, under Elena Williams’s dedicated leadership, had grown into one of the most effective charitable organizations in the Midwest, building schools, medical clinics, and housing units for low-income families. Elena had transformed from a frail, terrified housekeeper into a confident, respected director, holding her own in boardrooms alongside city council members and corporate executives.
Zoe was now nine years old—a bright, energetic student who excelled in her classes and spent her weekends at the estate taking art lessons from world-renowned painters hired by the foundation. She had her own room in the West Wing, filled with books, easel stands, and framed artwork. To everyone in our organization, she was no longer just the housekeeper’s daughter; she was considered my personal ward, protected by the full authority of the Romano name.
However, in my line of work, the past never truly dies. It merely waits for an opportunity to strike back.
On a cold autumn evening, while reviewing financial reports in my study, Viktor knocked firmly on the door before stepping inside. His face was grim.
"Boss," Viktor said quietly, placing a confidential intelligence folder on my desk. "We have a problem."
I opened the folder. Inside was a surveillance photograph taken at the O'Hare International Airport three hours prior.
The photo showed a tall, older man with cold, piercing eyes and a deep scar running across his jaw line.
"Don Salieri," I murmured, feeling a cold wave of familiarity sweep over me.
Don Salieri was the retired patriarch of the New York syndicate—the man who had controlled the East Coast before I forced him into exile five years ago during the New York conflict. He was the old guard, a ruthless warlord who believed in total domination through terror and bloodshed.
"Why is he in Chicago?" I asked.
"He didn't come alone," Viktor replied, his voice dropping. "He brought forty mercenaries from the old European network. And our sources indicate he has spent the last six months buying up federal prison guards at the Illinois State Penitentiary."
I looked up at Viktor, my eyes narrowing. "Marcus."
"Yes," Viktor confirmed. "Salieri paid off the guards and broke Marcus out of the supermax facility two nights ago. Marcus knows the internal layout of our new legitimate logistics network, and more importantly, he knows the daily routines of everyone close to you."
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I closed the folder with a sharp snap. "Where is Salieri hiding?"
"They are operating out of an abandoned railyard near the southern border of the city," Viktor said. "They are planning something big, Boss. Salieri wants to reclaim his position in the Midwest, and he knows the only way to do that is to strike at the heart of the Romano family."
