Chapter 8 - The Contract Signed In Blood
Arthur Vance gestured for the group to enter his private library—a massive room lined with thousands of leather-bound books and heavy mahogany furniture.
A large, detailed map of Chicago’s commercial harbor hung above the fireplace, glowing softly under the amber lamp light.
Marcus sat at the central desk, laying the gold-crested ledger onto the green felt surface.
“Your son tried to make a scene at my dining room tonight, Arthur,” Marcus said, looking at the old man.
“He thought he could bully my staff and demand a rollover on your forty-million-dollar debt.”
Arthur turned toward Julian, his eyes flashing with sudden, terrifying fury.
“You idiot,” Arthur whispered to his son. “I told you to treat Callahan with absolute respect!”
“Father, she insulted us!” Julian shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Maya. “She knew about the federal subpoenas! How does a waitress know about federal grand juries?”
The room suddenly fell completely silent.
Arthur Vance stopped breathing, his gaze snapping directly to Maya, who stood quietly near the library door.
Marcus lowered his cigar slowly, his sharp grey eyes narrowing as he turned to look at her as well.
“Is that true, Maya?” Marcus asked softly, his tone dangerously calm. “How did you know about the federal subpoenas?”
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Maya did not retreat; she took two deliberate steps toward the center of the room, letting the ambient light catch her composed features.
“Because I was the one who drafted them, Mr. Vance,” Maya said clearly.
