Chapter 10 - Shadows of the Past
-10-
Three weeks passed with a strange, almost unnatural tranquility inside the Blackwood Mansion. The shattered windows in the west wing were replaced with reinforced bulletproof glass, the security detail was doubled with trusted men from Victor’s inner circle, and the ominous shadow of Serena Montigue faded into a distant, unpleasant memory. Ethan’s arm healed remarkably fast under Dr. Arispe’s watchful care; the cast was removed, leaving only a faint red line that would vanish with time, and his cheerful, infectious laughter once again echoed through the grand marble halls.
I had officially transitioned from "the nanny" to a permanent resident and co-guardian of the household, though the staff still whispered respectfully when I walked by. Victor treated me not as an employee, but with a quiet, fierce devotion that defied every stereotype associated with a Chicago mafia boss. He consulted me on estate security, included me in business dinners with trusted syndicate associates, and spent every evening reading bedtime stories to Ethan while I sat across from him in the study, sharing quiet conversations that stretched late into the night.
Yet, peace in the underworld is never absolute.
It was a chilly Tuesday evening when the fragile equilibrium shattered. Victor was away in downtown Chicago attending a high-level summit with the northern territorial capos, leaving Marcus in charge of perimeter security. I was in the library reading a historical biography while Ethan napped soundly in his crib upstairs, when a soft, rhythmic chime echoed from the secure terminal on Victor’s mahogany desk.
I walked over, frowning as I looked at the screen. It was an encrypted override signal originating from the estate’s main front gates—a signal that hadn't been used since Serena’s betrayal.
The terminal displayed a live feed from the intercom camera outside the heavy iron security gates. Standing in the pouring rain, soaked to the bone and shivering violently, was a woman clutching a tattered leather handbag, her face half-obscured by a dark hood.
I pressed the intercom button. “Hello? You have reached a private residence. State your business or leave immediately.”
The hooded figure slowly raised her head, staring directly into the camera lens. Water dripped from her pale cheeks, but her eyes—wide, desperate, and filled with absolute terror—sent a jolt of ice straight down my spine.
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It wasn't Serena. It was a woman I had never seen before in my life. But the moment she spoke, her voice cracked with a frantic urgency that made my blood run cold.
“Listen to me!” the woman gasped into the intercom, her hands trembling against the metal post. “Tell Victor Blackwood that the surrogate files he bought three years ago were a lie! Ethan... Ethan isn't who he thinks he is. And the people who engineered this whole thing are coming back tonight to finish what they started!”
