Chapter 8 - The Mark on the City
By 11:45 PM, news had begun to spread through the dark arteries of the city like wildfire.
In the back rooms of the private gambling clubs along the river, men spoke in hushed, terrified whispers about what had happened at the Onyx Room.
"Did you hear?" "Arthur Moretti took a waitress out of the lounge." "Jimmy Kelly’s boy Derek got dragged off the 4th Street dock." "Moretti bought his paper and put him on a boat to South America." "Why?" "Because the idiot put a hand on her."
At the city’s central police precinct, a desk captain named Miller sat in his office, drinking cold coffee. His phone rang twice.
He picked it up. "Miller."
"It’s Marco," a deep voice said over the line. "Clean up the incident report from the Onyx Room eight months ago. Clara Bennett’s file."
Miller paused, his pen hovering over a ledger. "Which file?"
"The domestic report filed against Derek Vance," Marco said flatly. "Expunge it. Change the status to 'unfounded perpetrator flight.' The Boss doesn't want her name associated with any past records."
"Understood," Miller said instantly, without asking a single question. "Consider it gone."
Back at the Moretti estate, Clara sat near the hearth in Arthur’s private study, wrapped in a plush cream-colored cashmere robe that Mrs. Gable had provided.
She held a cup of warm tea in her hands, watching the flames crackle against the soot-stained iron of the fireplace.
The heavy mahogany door opened softly.
Arthur walked in. He had removed his suit jacket and tie, wearing only a crisp white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, his sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the dense, dark tattoos that coiled around his wrists.
He carried a leather-bound folder in his hand.
He sat down in the armchair opposite her, laying the folder on the small table between them.
"What is that?" Clara asked quietly.
"The deed to your apartment building on 12th Street," Arthur said. "I bought it thirty minutes ago."
Clara blinked, almost dropping her tea. "You... you bought my building?"
"The landlord was a slumlord who refused to install proper locks on the main entrance," Arthur explained calmly. "Tomorrow, a crew will begin installing a full biometric security system, private guards at the front entrance, and new steel doors for every unit."
May you like
He looked into her eyes, his gray gaze softening slightly under the warm glow of the fire.
"You can keep your apartment if you wish to live there, Clara," Arthur added softly. "Or you can stay here. The choice is entirely yours. You will never be forced into a corner again."
