I recognized my ex-husband Marcus the second he stepped out of room 1402 at the Grand Monarch Hotel, holding hands with his new fiancé.
The industrial warehouse on the Calumet River was a skeletal structure of rusted metal and broken windows, a stark contrast to the plush opulence of Duke’s usual haunts. The air was thick with the stench of oil and damp concrete. Duke stood in the center, his face a mask of cold fury.
Alderman Williams, Tasha’s father, entered nervously, his expensive suit looking out of place amidst the grime. He was visibly sweating, clutching a briefcase.
“Duke,” the alderman stammered, his eyes darting around the cavernous space. “You said it was an emergency. The funds are here. My daughter has arranged everything.”
Duke merely stared at him, his silence more menacing than any shout. The alderman fidgeted, his gaze falling on the empty space where the last of Duke’s enforcers had just exited, leaving them alone.
“The $400,000, Alderman,” Duke said, his voice dangerously low. “The money that disappeared three years ago. The money I blamed on Lisa. The money that led me to believe my own stepdaughter was a thief.”
Alderman Williams’s face went ashen. “Duke, I don’t know what you’re talking about! Tasha handles all the books, you know that!”
“Tasha handles my books alright,” Duke sneered. “Right into her own pockets. And yours. To bankroll Marcus’s real estate front. A front you built with my money, using my name, while framing my family.”
He took a step closer, his eyes blazing. “My network is collapsing from internal rot. Hollis is compromised. Sondra is singing to Internal Affairs. And it’s because of your greedy, ambitious daughter. And you, you spineless rat, for enabling her.”
The alderman dropped his briefcase, its contents spilling onto the concrete floor. “Please, Duke! I’ll pay it back! Everything! Just don’t hurt Tasha!”
Duke simply shook his head. “Too late, Alderman. Much too late.”
He pulled a silenced pistol from his waistband. The metallic click was unnervingly loud in the vast space.
“I will burn down every traitor in Chicago,” Duke declared, his voice hard as granite, “before I give up my empire.”
He raised the pistol, aiming directly at the alderman’s chest.
A single shot cracked through the silence, sharp and definitive. Alderman Williams crumpled to the ground, a dark stain spreading across his pristine white shirt.
The reverberation of the gunshot seemed to echo across the city, an unspoken declaration of war. Duke Washington had just executed a city official, turning the entire Chicago police department into a volatile war zone.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours