Chapter 5 - Whispers of Treason
The truth fell upon Matilda like the lid of a stone sarcophagus.
There had been no mistake. Dr. Vance had not misread the flatline; he had been commanded to declare it. The ambush at the warehouse had not been an unforeseen strike by rival families from the South Side; it had been an execution orchestrated from within the Falcone inner circle. Carmine had poisoned Gabriel, shot him while he was immobilized, and then brought his paralyzed body back to the estate’s private facility where he could ensure no outside physician would ever intervene.
Gabriel had not died of his wounds. The neurotoxin had simply driven his body into a state of suspended animation, depressing his heart rate and respiration until he appeared lifeless to anyone who did not spend minutes listening against his bare skin. And now, Carmine had returned to finish what the poison had started—by sealing the paralyzed boss inside a heavy vinyl shroud and feeding him to the estate’s private crematorium before the sun even crested Lake Michigan.
Matilda looked at the red emergency button on the wall. A bitter, terrifying clarity washed over her. If she had pressed that button, the alarm would not have summoned saviors. It would have alerted Carmine’s loyalists stationed throughout the estate. They would have walked into this room, seen Gabriel’s chest rising by millimeters, and put a bullet through both of their skulls without a second thought.
She looked down at Gabriel. His handsome face was bathed in the cold, blue-white light of the examination bulb. His chiseled jaw was slack, his broad, muscular chest seemingly carved from marble. He had been an untouchable god in the streets of Chicago, a man whose very name made politicians and killers lower their eyes in terror. Yet here he was, reduced to helpless prey, betrayed by his own lieutenant, unable to raise a single finger to defend himself against the fire that awaited him.
Matilda’s hand dropped from the wall. Her small, delicate frame shook with a mixture of terror and a sudden, fierce rage she did not know she possessed. She had lived her entire life as a servant, quiet, obedient, keeping her head down whenever the men with guns walked through the halls. She had scrubbed blood off Persian rugs and washed wine from silk shirts, invisible and insignificant. But at this moment, she was the only soul on earth who knew the truth.
Outside, the rustle of heavy vinyl echoed against the door.
"Get the zipper ready," Carmine snapped through the glass, his shadow shifting as he reached into his dark tailored overcoat. "I want him out of this estate before the capos arrive for the emergency council at seven. Once Gabriel is ash, the seat is mine, and no one will ask questions about how he died."
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"I... I understand," the surgeon replied, his voice breaking.
Matilda leaned over the table, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the cold edge of the metal slab. She was trapped. There was no back exit to the examination room; the only door led straight into the corridor where Carmine stood with the body bag.
