Chapter 5 - The Turn
The rain started just as our unmarked sedan crossed the city limits, slicking the asphalt of downtown Chicago with oily neon reflections from the skyscrapers above. Marcus parked two blocks away from the Moretti Enterprises tower, leaving the engine idling while the wipers beat a steady, hypnotic rhythm against the windshield.
"This is insane," Marcus muttered, adjusting his rearview mirror to check for tails. "If Vincent’s security detail catches you inside that building, the injunction won't save you, the police won't save you, and I won't be able to get to you in time."
"They won't catch me," I said, pulling the hood of my dark trench coat over my hair. "They're all looking for me in the suburbs and at the train stations. Nobody expects the woman whose husband is hunting her to walk right into his corporate headquarters through the underground garage."
I checked the burner phone in my pocket. The screen was dark, save for a single incoming notification from an unknown sender—not Vincent, but someone else. A name I hadn't seen in the files: Agent Miller, IRS Financial Crimes Division.
May you like
The message read: We have the Cayman records. We need your signature to execute the warrant.
I didn't reply. I opened the car door, stepped out into the cold Chicago rain, and walked toward the entrance of the underground parking garage, leaving the past five years of my life behind in the dark.
