Chapter 3 - The Currency of Shadows
By noon the following day, the city was buzzing with rumors.
News outlets reported that Vincent Raldi had mysteriously canceled his public appearances, while Julian Raldi had assumed interim control of Raldi Enterprises, announcing an unprecedented corporate restructuring plan.
Inside a hidden back room of a high-end tailor shop in the Financial District—owned by a tailor who owed Vincent his life—Delaney stood in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror.
The oversized, mud-caked coat was gone. In its place was a sharp, floor-length midnight-blue silk gown with modest long sleeves and an intricate silver lace collar. Her tangled hair had been washed and styled into an elegant French twist.
She stared at her reflection, hardly recognizing the young woman staring back.
Vincent walked into the room, now wearing a fresh tailored navy suit, looking every bit the feared billionaire crime boss, though his pale skin still showed faint bruises along his jaw.
"You look like you belong in a penthouse, Delaney," Vincent said quietly.
"I feel like an imposter," Delaney replied, her hands trembling slightly against the smooth silk. "Two days ago I was eating cold beans out of a tin can. If someone at this gala looks at me too closely—"
"They won't look at you as an imposter," Vincent interrupted, standing beside her in the mirror. "They will look at you as my guest. In this city, people only see what money tells them to see."
He opened a velvet box and lifted a delicate platinum necklace holding a pear-cut sapphire. He placed it around her neck, his cool fingers briefly brushing her collarbone.
"This belonged to my mother," Vincent said. "She grew up three streets away from Larkin Row. She always reminded me that power without accountability is just violence with a bank account."
Delaney touched the cool gem resting against her chest. "And Julian forgot that?"
"Julian never learned it," Vincent said grimly. "Tonight, Julian has invited every corrupt judge, police chief, and city councilor to the Grand Metropolitan Hotel. He’s going to sign the master deed transferring all public waterfront land to his offshore shell company."
"And what are we bringing?" Delaney asked.
Vincent pulled a small encrypted flash drive from his pocket. "The real financial ledgers. Proof that Julian poisoned our father, embezzled eighty million dollars from the workers' pension fund, and paid off the arsonists who burned down Larkin Row."
May you like
Delaney’s breath hitched. "He burned the row?"
"He did," Vincent said, his jaw tightening. "And tonight, Delaney... you are going to help me burn his empire to the ground."
