Chapter 9 - The Reckoning of the Gold Coast
By 3:30 a.m., news of the destruction of Eddie Vance’s operation had sent shockwaves through the upper echelons of Chicago’s underworld.
In the penthouse suite of the Gold Coast Tower—Tristan’s former sanctuary—Marcus Webb stood by the window, holding a glass of scotch, his face pale as paper. Beside him, dressed in a red silk gown, sat Celeste, her hands trembling as she stared at her phone.
"It's impossible," Celeste whispered, her voice cracking with hysteria. "I saw him get shot! I watched the blood leave his body! He was crippled! He was dead!"
"He tricked us," Marcus spat, smashing his scotch glass against the marble fireplace. "He used the newspapers to hide while he rebuilt his network! He's coming here, Celeste!"
BOOM!
The private elevator doors of the penthouse burst open with a deafening roar.
Knox’s assault team flooded the penthouse foyer, disarming Marcus’s elite personal guards in seconds. Heavy boots clicked against the polished hardwood floor—the same floor where Tristan had fallen three months ago.
Tristan Wolfe walked into the room.
He looked completely restored, powerful, magnificent, and lethal. Behind him stood Maya and Lily, safely guarded by his top operators.
When Celeste saw Tristan standing upright, six-foot-three, his dark eyes fixed on her face, she let out a choked gasp, dropping her wine glass onto the rug.
"Tristan..." Celeste stammered, stepping back toward the window, her hands raised in desperate surrender. "Tristan, please... he made me do it! Marcus forced me! He threatened my life! I always loved you! Please, Tristan!"
Tristan walked right past Marcus Webb—who was pinned to the floor by Knox’s knee—and stopped five feet from Celeste.
He looked at her face. The face he had loved for three years. The lips that had kissed him a second before the bullet struck. He felt no anger. No hatred. Only a cold, absolute void.
"You said my money was more attractive than I was," Tristan said softly, his voice echoing in the vast room. "So today, I am leaving you with nothing."
Tristan gestured to Knox. "Strip her of the jewelry. Take the house, the accounts, the cars. Cast her out into the street in the clothes she's wearing. If she ever sets foot in this city again... handle her."
"No! Tristan, please!" Celeste screamed as two guards grabbed her arms, stripping the diamond necklace from her throat, dragging her weeping toward the elevator.
May you like
Tristan then turned to Marcus Webb, who was groveling on the floor beneath Knox’s boot.
"As for you, Marcus," Tristan said, looking down at his rival. "You wanted my empire. Today, you take my place in the South Side slum. You will live in Apartment 4A. You will sleep on the dirt. And if you ever leave that block... Knox will execute you."
