Chapter 9
"Do not fail me, Marcus," Valentina said, turning away from the ruined indoor garden. "I am going to check on my son."
She walked swiftly through the labyrinth of the estate, her wet heels clicking against the polished hardwood floors. She bypassed the grand staircase, heading directly for the secure panic suite located in the center of the mansion’s architecture.
Two armed guards stood outside the reinforced steel door. They nodded respectfully and swiped a keycard, unlocking the heavy barrier for their boss.
Valentina stepped into the warm, dimly lit room. Owen was wrapped in a thick, dry blanket, sitting on a plush sofa, drinking a cup of warm cocoa handed to him by one of the estate's nannies. His fair, rosy skin had regained some of its color, but his bright blue eyes still held a lingering shadow of the trauma he had endured.
"Mommy," Owen said softly, placing the cup on the table and holding his arms out.
Valentina shed the borrowed suit jacket and dropped to her knees in front of the sofa, wrapping her arms securely around his small body. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of his hair, the crushing weight of the afternoon's events finally settling onto her shoulders. She was a ruthless Mafia boss, a tactician, a killer when necessary, but in this room, she was just a mother who had almost lost her entire world.
"I am so sorry, my sweet boy," Valentina whispered, her voice cracking for the first time. "I am so sorry I let them get so close to you."
"Why did Aunt Celeste push me?" Owen asked, his innocent, three-year-old voice breaking her heart all over again. "Did I do something bad?"
"No, Owen. You did nothing wrong," Valentina said fiercely, pulling back to look him directly in the eyes. "Aunt Celeste pushed you because she is a weak, wicked person who wanted to hurt me. But she is gone now. She will never, ever come near you again."
"Is Uncle Victor gone too?" Owen asked, clutching the blanket.
"Yes. They are both gone," Valentina promised.
The heavy steel door to the suite buzzed open again. Thomas, her head of intelligence, stepped into the room. He held a secure, encrypted tablet in his hands, his fair face pale and tense.
Valentina stood up, instantly transitioning back into the role of the syndicate matriarch. "What is it, Thomas?"
"Boss, I just interrogated Victor in the basement," Thomas said, his American accent tight with urgency. "He gave up the details on the Chicago deal."
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"And?" Valentina prompted, crossing her arms.
"It wasn't just the ports," Thomas revealed, swallowing hard. "Chicago didn't just want a smuggling route. They want the entire city. And Victor didn't just promise them you would be removed."
