Chapter 1 - The Yellow Dress
I wrapped the gray blanket around my shoulders.
Allie stared at me as if I had just grown a second head.
Her tears stopped falling entirely.
I did not smile.
I simply looked at the woman who was still kneeling on my expensive Persian rug.
Lily clapped her small hands together.
I told Allie to stand up and take her daughter back to the staff quarters.
Allie scrambled to her feet and grabbed Lily by the hand.
She muttered a frantic apology and practically dragged the child toward the heavy oak door.
But before she could cross the threshold, I noticed something that made my blood run cold.
The sleeve of Allie’s uniform slipped up her arm.
A fresh, dark purple bruise wrapped entirely around her delicate wrist.
It was the distinct shape of a man’s hand.
I knew the handprints of every single guard on my payroll.
None of my men would dare lay a finger on a maid without my explicit permission.
I called her name.
Allie froze in the doorway, her shoulders stiffening with absolute terror.
I asked her who had grabbed her wrist.
She kept her back to me and lied, claiming she had bumped into a heavy cabinet.
I closed the distance between us in three long strides.
I gently but firmly caught her arm and pushed the fabric higher.
A jagged, poorly healed scar shaped like a serpent rested just above her elbow.
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It was the brand of the Falco family, the most ruthless rival syndicate in Chicago.
Before I could demand an explanation, the deafening shriek of the estate’s perimeter alarms shattered the silence.
