Chapter 4 - THE RECKONING IN THE PENTHOUSE
Within two hours, the Chicago skyline was gripped by an unprecedented security lockdown.
All flights out of O’Hare and Midway were grounded under emergency federal and private aviation protocols. State troopers and Rourke syndicate enforcers sealed the interstate corridors. The city’s underworld held its collective breath; the Rourke king had been provoked, and everyone knew that blood would follow.
In the penthouse suite, Mia was fast asleep on a velvet sofa, wrapped in Lucas’s heavy cashmere coat, her thumb tucked safely into her mouth. A pediatrician brought in by private jet had already examined her, confirming she was malnourished, overworked, and terrified—forced to live in a dingy South Side apartment while her mother’s massive trust fund had been slowly siphoned away by corrupt lawyers and bankers.
The heavy oak doors of the penthouse opened with a crash.
Two guards shoved a man forward onto the Persian rug.
Julian Vance stumbled, catching himself on his hands. His expensive designer suit was rumpled, his hair disheveled, and his face pale with absolute terror as he looked up and saw Lucas standing over him with a glass of scotch in his hand.
“Lucas!” Julian choked out, forcing a desperate, nervous laugh. “What is the meaning of this? Have you lost your mind? You can't just have your thugs kidnap me off the street—!”
Lucas took a slow sip of his drink, then set the crystal glass down on the marble table with a sharp clack.
He didn't speak. He simply walked across the room, grabbed Julian by the collar of his shirt, and hauled him upright with terrifying strength.
“You touched my daughter, Julian,” Lucas whispered, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage.
Julian’s eyes darted toward the sofa where Mia was sleeping, then back to Lucas. “I... I didn't know! I didn't know she was yours! The woman—Hannah—she died in that apartment fire six months ago! I thought the money was up for grabs! We could have split it—!”
Crack.
Lucas’s fist collided with Julian’s jaw with enough force to shatter bone. Julian crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain, blood pooling on the white carpet.
“You thought you could steal from my family,” Lucas said, standing over him like an executioner. “You thought you could leave my child to starve while you lived in luxury on my grandfather’s estate.”
“Please, Lucas... we’re family...” Julian wept, crawling backward away from him.
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“Family,” Lucas repeated bitterly. “In my world, family is earned. And you just bought yourself a permanent, unrecorded grave beneath Lake Michigan.”
He signaled his guards. “Take him to the North Side dry docks. Make sure he has plenty of time to think about his accounting errors.”
