Chapter 13 - The Empty Throne
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The swift, brutal execution in the dining room sent a terrifying, unmistakable message across the entire eastern seaboard. Daniel Whitfield was not just alive; he was more dangerous, ruthless, and absolute than ever before.
The Commission bosses hastily pledged their unwavering loyalty, desperately signing updated treaties favorable to the Whitfield empire before practically sprinting out of the estate, terrified of lingering too long in the slaughterhouse.
When the heavy doors finally closed behind the last retreating boss, Daniel remained seated at the head of the bloody table. He let out a long, slow exhale, the immense pressure of the last seventy-two hours finally beginning to settle in his bones.
Grace quietly stepped forward, retrieving her compact pistol and slipping it back into the hidden holster beneath her apron. She picked up a clean linen napkin and began efficiently wiping a splatter of blood from the polished mahogany.
“You are a terrible maid, Grace,” Daniel murmured, a faint, dark smile touching the corners of his mouth.
Grace paused, looking up at him, her dark eyes entirely unreadable. “Sir?”
“Maids are supposed to be terrified of gunfire,” Daniel noted, leaning back in his chair. “They are supposed to scream and hide under the tables. They are certainly not supposed to execute Russian cartel bosses with military-grade precision from thirty feet away.”
Grace swallowed hard, placing the bloody napkin on the silver tray.
“I grew up in a very bad neighborhood in Chicago, Mr. Whitfield,” Grace answered quietly. “You learn early on that if you hide under the table, the monsters just find you faster. It is better to shoot first.”
Daniel studied her. He saw the fierce, uncompromising intelligence that had allowed her to survive in his brutal house for two years without ever drawing attention to herself. He saw a woman who possessed more tactical brilliance than half of his highest-ranking capos.
“You saved my life on the stairs,” Daniel said softly. “You orchestrated the downfall of my traitorous brother. And today, you secured the loyalty of the Five Families.”
He stood up, walking slowly around the long table until he stood directly in front of her.
“Take off the apron, Grace,” Daniel commanded.
May you like
Grace hesitated for a fraction of a second before untying the crisp white fabric, letting it fall to the floor.
“You are no longer domestic staff,” Daniel stated, his gray eyes locking onto hers with a profound, terrifying intensity. “You are officially my Underboss. You answer only to me, and the entire syndicate answers to you.”
