Chapter 2 - Blood and Ledger
The silence that followed Elena’s whisper felt heavier than a physical blow.
He knows about the baby.
If Julian had found out Elena was pregnant before I did, it wasn't a coincidence. It meant he had been watching her, tracking her movements, and systematically cutting off her access to food, medical care, and communication to isolate her completely. But why? What leverage could an unborn child possibly give my brother over the Mercer family empire?
“Marco,” I said, my voice dropping into that dark, flat register that usually made my own capos take two steps back. “Get the car. We’re going to Mercer Holdings.”
Marco hesitated, his dark eyes shifting between me and the hospital bed. “Boss, she’s still unstable. Dr. Bennett said—”
“Dr. Bennett can monitor her vitals from a secure line,” I cut him off, gently releasing Elena’s hand and stepping away from the bedside. I pulled my jacket tight across my shoulders, my fingers brushing the heavy steel frame of my concealed Glock. “If Julian is using my company’s accounts to finance her slow execution, I’m going to pull him out of his high-rise office by his silk tie and ask him why face-to-face.”
I turned to Dr. Bennett, who was adjusting an IV drip near the head of the bed. “Keep her alive, Doctor. If anything happens to her—or the child—nobody in this city will be able to hide you from what I do next.”
She didn't flinch. She just met my gaze with steady, professional defiance. “I’m a doctor, Mr. Mercer, not a hitman. Save your threats for the person who put her here.”
Five minutes later, Marco’s black armored sedan was tearing down the FDR Drive, cutting through the rainy Manhattan traffic like a blade through silk. The neon lights of the city streaked past the tinted windows, blurring into distorted ribbons of red and yellow. My mind wasn't on the traffic; it was replaying every conversation I had had with Julian over the last three months.
“You look stressed, Luke,” Julian had laughed over scotch at the Hudson Club two weeks ago, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with an irritatingly casual smirk. “Maybe cutting the dead weight off your life was the best thing you ever did. A mob boss with a wife is just a man with a target on his back.”
He had known. He had known I was tearing myself apart inside, drowning in whiskey and isolation, believing I was keeping Elena safe by pushing her away.
“We’re pulling into the underground garage, Boss,” Marco announced, shifting the sedan into park as the heavy security gates of the Mercer Holdings tower rolled open with a mechanical groan.
The underground parking level was dim, lit by flickering fluorescent tubes that cast long, distorted shadows across rows of luxury vehicles. Marco cut the engine, and the sudden quiet of the garage felt unnatural, like the calm before a hurricane.
“Wait in the car, Marco,” I said, pushing my door open.
“Boss, that’s suicide. Julian’s got private security on the executive floor—”
“I said wait in the car,” I repeated, my tone leaving zero room for argument. “If I’m not back down here in twenty minutes, burn the building’s server room.”
Marco swallowed hard, his hand resting on his own holster. “Understood. Don’t miss, Boss.”
I stepped out into the damp chill of the garage, my boots clicking rhythmically against the concrete as I walked toward the private elevator bank that led directly to the penthouse suite. But as I reached for the call button, the heavy steel door of the stairwell suddenly clicked open.
A figure stepped out into the dim light.
It wasn't Julian. It was Sarah, Julian’s personal assistant, clutching a cardboard box of shredded documents against her chest, her face pale and streaked with mascara.
May you like
When she saw me standing under the flickering light, she dropped the box, the contents spilling out across the dirty concrete floor in a chaotic white mess.
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