Chapter 5 - MARCO’S PHONE AND THE TENEMENT
Across the mezzanine, Marco stood against the glass window, the cold light from Michigan Avenue reflecting off his bald head and sharp suit collar. The heavy snow outside continued to fall in thick, silent curtains, burying the tops of the black luxury sedans parked along the curb.
Marco’s phone vibrated twice in his hand—a sharp, double-pulse notification from his primary intelligence contact in the 1st District precinct.
He unlocked the screen, his dark eyes scanning the three lines of encrypted text that appeared on the display.
As Marco read the report, his normally calm, entirely unreadable expression—a face that had remained stone-cold through federal indictments, gang wars, and high-stakes syndicate negotiations—shattered. His brows pulled together in deep shock, his mouth opening slightly as he re-read the address provided in the database.
Dominic, whose senses were attuned to every micro-expression of the men under his command, caught the change instantly. He turned his head slowly, his dark eyes locking onto Marco with razor-sharp intensity.
"What?" Dominic asked, his voice low, dropping into a register that made the air in the mezzanine freeze.
Marco didn't answer immediately. He tucked his phone into his palm, looked at Emily, then looked back at Dominic. He stepped around the leather booth, taking slow, heavy strides until he stood directly beside Dominic’s elbow, leaning down so his voice wouldn't carry over the table.
"Boss..." Marco whispered, his voice laced with rare, disturbing tension. "The apartment building... the address registered to her mother's name..."
"What about it?" Dominic demanded, his jaw locking.
"You know the building," Marco said quietly. "It's the historic brick complex on 18th and Blue Island."
Dominic’s expression hardened into pure iron. "That building belongs to our holdings. Why are those kids starving in one of my properties?"
Marco hesitated, his eyes flicking briefly toward Emily, who was watching them with wide, terrified eyes.
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"It doesn't just belong to our general holdings, boss," Marco corrected in an even lower whisper. "It's managed directly by one of your primary captains. It belongs to someone who works for us."
Dominic slowly turned his head back toward the table, his dark eyes fixing on Emily and the weak, shivering infant in her arms.
