Chapter 2 - The Silent Watch
Twenty-four hours later, Dominic sat in the darkened living room of a rented penthouse suite overlooking the lower East Side of Milwaukee. The room was dark, save for the blue glow of a large computer monitor.
Marcus stood beside him, placing a thick leather-bound dossier on the armrest of the wheelchair.
"She’s been living in a quiet residential neighborhood near UWM," Marcus reported, his voice low. "She works remotely as a senior financial consultant for a mid-sized logistics firm. She bought a small, two-bedroom bungalow two years ago under her maiden name. No boyfriends, no visitors except a local babysitter named Clara three times a week."
Dominic opened the file. The first page was a high-resolution photograph of Leo and Lucas playing in a small, fenced backyard. Leo was trying to catch a butterfly; Lucas was wielding a plastic shovel like a sword.
Dominic’s thumb traced the edge of the photograph. "The medical records. What do they say?"
"Born April 14th at St. Mary’s. Healthy. No complications," Marcus hesitated, clearing his throat. "I took the liberty of checking the birth certificates, Boss. The father's name was left blank."
A heavy silence filled the room. Dominic closed his eyes, remembering the night he had broken her heart. He had thrown a glass vase against the hospital wall, screaming at her to get out, calling her a parasite who only wanted his money now that he was crippled. He had said those vile things because he knew the men who shot him were still watching the hospital windows. He had sacrificed his own soul to make her hate him enough to run far away from the crosshairs of his war.
"She built a life out of nothing," Dominic murmured. "With no help from the Caruso estate. She took nothing from the offshore accounts."
"She’s stubborn, Boss. Just like she was when she found that forty-two million dollar leak in Chicago." Marcus leaned closer. "But there’s a problem. A recent development."
Dominic’s eyes snapped open, the silver-gray irises flashing in the dark. "What problem?"
"The bullet that hit you three years ago didn't just come from nowhere. It was paid for by Viktor Petrov, the head of the North Side Bratva. We pushed them out of the Chicago terminals, but they’ve been expanding their operations into Milwaukee over the last year. Three days ago, one of Petrov’s lieutenants spotted Elena at a local park. They didn't know about the twins, but they recognized her face from the old days in Chicago."
Dominic's hand gripped the armrest so hard the carbon fiber groaned under the pressure. "Did they touch her?"
"Not yet. They're watching her house. They think she’s your hidden weakness, Boss. They don't know you two broke up three years ago. They think she's still your leverage point."
Dominic slowly turned his chair toward the glass window, looking down at the city lights. Viktor Petrov was a relic from his father’s era—a man who believed in total annihilation, who targeted families, women, and children to send messages.
"Marcus," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper that made the seasoned security chief brace himself. "Increase the perimeter around her house to twelve men. I want invisible protection. If a single Russian comes within a block of my sons, do not arrest them. Do not question them. Bury them."
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"Understood, Boss."
"And prepare the car," Dominic added, adjusting the cuffs of his charcoal coat. "It’s time I paid my family a proper visit."
