Chapter 3 - THE NAME THAT TERRIFIED THE MAFIA BOSS
Damon Bianchi had faced armed enemies without blinking.
But one photograph made him look as though he'd seen a ghost.
Delaney held it tighter.
"This is my mother."
Damon didn't answer.
"Her name was Margaret Whitfield. She died two years ago."
Something dangerous moved behind his gray eyes.
"Frank!"
His voice thundered through the hallway.
Within seconds, Frank appeared.
Damon pointed toward the photograph.
"Explain this."
Frank saw the picture.
His expression changed.
"Sir..."
"Now."
Frank swallowed.
"Not in front of your mother."
Evelyn suddenly stood.
"No!"
Her voice shook.
"No more secrets."
Damon approached her.
"Mother, please sit down."
"Margaret saved my life once."
Silence.
Delaney looked at her.
"What?"
Evelyn's eyes filled with tears.
"Your mother was my friend. My dearest friend."
Delaney could hardly process the words.
Her mother had spent her final years working as a school cafeteria assistant.
She had never mentioned knowing wealthy people.
Certainly not anyone connected to organized crime.
"That doesn't make sense," Delaney whispered.
Evelyn shook her head.
"Margaret was a nurse. Before she moved away from Chicago, she worked at a private medical clinic."
Delaney remembered.
Her mother had once mentioned leaving nursing after a terrible incident.
Whenever Delaney asked about it, Margaret changed the subject.
Evelyn continued.
"Twenty-eight years ago, someone tried to kill me."
Damon went rigid.
"Mother."
"No, Damon. She deserves to know."
Evelyn gripped Delaney's hand.
"Your mother discovered someone had tampered with my medication. She warned me before I took it."
Delaney stared.
"Who did it?"
Evelyn looked toward the door.
"I never knew."
Frank spoke quietly.
"Mrs. Bianchi, perhaps this conversation should wait."
"That's what everyone said twenty-eight years ago!"
She turned back to Delaney.
"Margaret disappeared shortly afterward. I was told she wanted nothing more to do with our family."
Delaney's heart pounded.
"My mother never told me any of this."
Evelyn touched her cheek.
"Perhaps she was protecting you."
Damon finally spoke.
"Frank, find every document connected to Margaret Whitfield."
"Yes, sir."
"And nobody outside this room hears her name."
Delaney looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because someone might still care that your mother knew too much."
A cold sensation traveled down her spine.
Damon turned toward her.
"I want you to stay here tonight."
"No."
"Miss Whitfield—"
"My mother kept secrets from me. That doesn't give you permission to control my life."
Their eyes locked.
Then Damon did something unexpected.
He stepped aside.
"You're free to leave."
Delaney exhaled.
"Thank you."
"But I'll arrange transportation."
She nodded reluctantly.
An hour later, a security driver brought her back to her South Side apartment.
Delaney climbed the stairs.
Reached her door.
And stopped.
The lock had been broken.
Inside, her tiny apartment had been completely destroyed.
Drawers emptied.
Mattress slashed.
Photographs scattered.
May you like
Across the wall, someone had written five words in black paint.
STOP ASKING ABOUT YOUR MOTHER.
