Chapter 13 - The New Order
Six months later, the underground art and financial landscape of Chicago looked entirely different.
The Continental steakhouse still operated as the premier front for the Russo family’s upscale laundering operations, but its back booths were no longer places of quiet intimidation—they were boardrooms where high-stakes transactions were quietly negotiated under absolute protection.
In the subterranean vault of the Barrington estate, Sadie Miller sat at a custom mahogany desk surrounded by high-resolution monitors, encrypted terminals, and stacks of authenticated Renaissance portfolios. Her ankle had healed completely, leaving only a faint, silvery scar where Vane’s brand had once been seared into her skin—a permanent reminder of the world she had survived and conquered.
The heavy oak door opened without a knock, and Callum walked in, holding two cups of black coffee. He set one down beside her keyboard without a word, his tall, imposing frame leaning against the edge of the desk.
“The auction in Zurich cleared this morning,” Callum said, his dark eyes scanning her workspace. “Every piece authenticated, every transfer cleared through federal oversight without a single red flag.”
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Sadie didn't look up from her monitor, though a faint smile touched the corner of her lips. “Of course it did. I appraised them.” Callum reached out, gently placing his hand over her fingers—the exact same gesture he had used six months ago in the back booth of the Continental, but this time, there was no trembling, no fear, and no blood.
“You’re late for lunch,” Callum noted, checking his Patek Philippe watch with mock severity. Sadie finally turned her head, looking up at him with her sharp, intelligent gray eyes. “I’m never late, Mr. Russo,” Sadie murmured, sliding her hand out from beneath his to intertwine her fingers with his calloused palm. “I’m simply taking my time.”
