Chapter 3 - THE SEALED CITY AND THE MONSTER’S FURY
Three hours later, Matteo Vescari’s private jet touched down at O’Hare International Airport under a torrential downpour.
The moment Matteo stepped onto the tarmac, his phone lit up with a barrage of frantic notifications from his head of security.
“Sir, there’s an emergency at the estate. Gabriel is missing. The housekeeper, Elena Marlowe, fled with him.”
Matteo’s world fractured. The stoic, ruthless mafia boss—a man who controlled half the shipping lanes and financial syndicates in Chicago—felt his knees momentarily buckle. The wife he lost to a car bomb was gone; Gabriel was his only anchor to humanity.
“Seal the city,” Matteo’s voice dropped into a register so cold and terrifying that his armed detail flinched. “Lock down every highway, every bridge, every train station, and every airport exit within a hundred miles. If anyone crosses the county line without my explicit permission, execute them on sight.”
Within forty-five minutes, Chicago was sealed tighter than a vault. National Guard units and private Vescari enforcers flooded the perimeter.
Matteo stormed into the estate’s grand foyer, his face dark as a thundercloud. Vivienne rushed toward him, her eyes synthetic and weeping theatrical tears, throwing her arms around his chest.
“Matteo, thank God you’re back!” Vivienne sobbed dramatically. “It’s horrific! That ungrateful maid... Elena! She poisoned Gabriel’s drink, kidnapped him, and ran out into the storm! My guards saw her dragging him toward the old conservatory!”
Matteo pushed her off him with such violent force that she stumbled backward against the marble console table.
“Where is my son?” Matteo snarled, pressing the barrel of his customized Sig Sauer pistol directly against the mahogany wall inches from Vivienne’s head.
May you like
“In the... the grounds! They went toward the trench!” Vivienne stammered, terror finally piercing her facade.
Matteo didn't wait. He sprinted out into the torrential rain, followed by a dozen armed men carrying high-powered searchlights, charging toward the abandoned conservatory.
