Chapter 11 - The Poisoned Chalice
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The crystal chandeliers of the Grand Chicago Hotel cast a blinding light over the city’s elite. It was the annual syndicate gala, a night where billionaires, corrupt politicians, and mafia bosses drank champagne and pretended to be civilized.
Adeline stood in the shadows near the velvet curtains, wearing a starched black-and-white maid’s uniform that felt like a prison sentence. Her hands were bruised from scrubbing the marble floors of the Marchetti estate earlier that morning, a punishment ordered by Isabella Rossi, the cruel mafia heiress slated to become Enzo’s wife.
Isabella was currently holding court at the center of the ballroom, dripping in diamonds and arrogance.
"Make sure the Don’s glass is never empty," Isabella snapped, passing a crystal tumbler of amber bourbon to one of her personal guards. She lowered her voice to a lethal whisper. "And ensure he drinks this specific glass before the midnight toast."
Adeline, hidden behind a pillar, froze.
She had spent years surviving the brutal Chicago underworld by being invisible, by listening when people thought the help couldn't understand. She saw the tiny, unnatural white powder dissolving at the bottom of the bourbon.
Poison. The Rossi family and the Commission were making their move tonight. They didn't want Enzo Marchetti as a partner; they wanted him dead so they could carve up his empire.
Adeline’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked across the room. Enzo stood by the grand staircase, an apex predator in a tailored charcoal suit. His dark, calculating eyes scanned the crowd. He was terrifying. He was ruthless. But to Adeline, he was the only man in this brutal world who had ever looked at her like she was a human being.
The guard approached Enzo, bowing respectfully as he offered the silver tray bearing the poisoned glass. Enzo reached out.
Without thinking, Adeline sprinted across the ballroom.
"Don Marchetti, wait!" she screamed.
She lunged forward, intentionally crashing into the guard. The silver tray flipped. The poisoned bourbon shattered across the pristine marble floor, the toxic liquid hissing slightly as it seeped into the grout.
The entire ballroom went dead silent. The music stopped. Every gun in the room was silently unholstered.
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Isabella’s face contorted into pure, demonic fury. She marched forward, her heels clicking like gunshots.
"You clumsy, pathetic rat!" Isabella shrieked, raising her hand. "I will have you skinned for this!"
