Chapter 1 - Ten Minutes Late
The first thing Callum Russo noticed was the blood.
Not the rain.
Not the torn coat.
Not the fact that Sadie Miller had broken the only rule she had never broken before.
She was hurt.
And someone had made the mistake of hurting her.
Callum Russo was not a man people disappointed twice.
Everyone in Chicago’s underground world knew that.
The first time was a warning.
The second time was a funeral.
At exactly 9:10 p.m. on a freezing Tuesday night, Callum sat alone in the back booth of the Continental, staring at the gold hands of his watch.
Ten minutes late.
That was all.
But for a man like Callum, ten minutes meant something.
It meant carelessness.
It meant disrespect.
It meant someone had forgotten who they were dealing with.
The expensive restaurant around him continued moving like nothing was wrong.
Rich businessmen laughed.
Couples whispered.
Crystal glasses touched.
A pianist played softly near the entrance.
Nobody looked toward the corner booth.
Nobody was stupid enough to.
Callum Russo sat there in a perfectly tailored black suit, a glass of untouched scotch beside him, his silver lighter resting between his fingers.
The lighter clicked.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The waiter approached carefully.
“Another drink, Mr. Russo?”
Callum didn’t look up.
“No.”
The waiter nodded quickly and disappeared.
Callum hated waiting.
But he hated being surprised even more.
And Sadie Miller had never surprised him.
For nearly two years, she had worked as his private art consultant.
She was brilliant.
Quiet.
Precise.
The kind of person who could look at a painting hanging in a billionaire’s mansion and tell him in thirty seconds whether he owned a masterpiece or an expensive fake.
She never missed deadlines.
Never forgot details.
Never arrived late.
Actually, Sadie usually arrived early.
Fifteen minutes early.
Always carrying the same brown leather portfolio.
Always wearing the same focused expression.
Always prepared.
That was why tonight bothered him.
Callum looked at his watch again.
9:11.
He had already decided what he would say.
No anger.
No shouting.
Just one sentence.
“Our arrangement is over.”
Simple.
Final.
Then the restaurant doors opened.
Cold Chicago rain rushed inside.
And Sadie Miller walked through.
Callum’s fingers stopped moving.
For a moment, he forgot about being angry.
Because the woman standing beneath the chandelier was not the woman who usually walked into his meetings.
Her beige trench coat was soaked.
Rainwater dripped from her blonde hair onto her pale face.
One hand held her leather portfolio tightly against her chest.
The other pressed against her side.
She looked exhausted.
But she kept walking.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like every step hurt.
She reached his table.
“Mr. Russo.”
Her voice was softer than usual.
Callum studied her.
“I’m waiting for an explanation.”
Sadie swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“The train stopped. The Red Line had a delay. I had to walk the last six blocks.”
Callum stared at her.
“You’re ten minutes late.”
“I know.”
“You’ve never been late.”
“I know.”
The answer was immediate.
Too immediate.
Like she had repeated those words in her head all night.
Callum noticed something else.
She was shaking.
“Sit.”
Sadie slowly sat across from him.
The second she lowered herself into the chair, her face tightened.
Only for a second.
Most people would have missed it.
Callum didn’t.
He noticed everything.
His eyes moved downward.
Her black tights were ripped near the knee.
Her left heel was almost broken off.
Mud covered the side of her shoe.
And there was something darker.
A red stain.
Blood.
His anger disappeared.
Sadie immediately opened her portfolio.
“I brought the documents for the Caravaggio sketch. The ownership history is complete. The paper analysis confirms—”
“Why are you limping?”
Her fingers froze.
“I’m not.”
“Sadie.”
“I slipped.”
“Where?”
“The platform.”
Callum leaned forward.
“You slipped.”
“Yes.”
“On a train platform.”
“Yes.”
He stared at her.
She looked away.
That was enough.
Callum had spent his entire life learning one thing.
People could lie with their mouths.
But their bodies always told the truth.
He reached across the table.
Sadie pulled back slightly.
Not because she was afraid of him.
Because she was afraid of what he would discover.
Callum took her hand.
Her breath caught.
He turned her wrist carefully.
Then he saw them.
Bruises.
Dark fingerprints wrapped around her skin.
Four marks on one side.
One on the other.
Someone had grabbed her.
Hard.
Callum’s face changed.
“A fall did this?”
Sadie pulled her hand away.
“It was nothing.”
“Who did this?”
“No one.”
“Sadie.”
She looked at him.
“It was a mugging.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Her expression hardened.
“Then stop asking questions when you already believe you know the answer.”
The silence between them became heavy.
Callum stood.
Sadie looked confused.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re leaving.”
“I haven’t finished the report.”
“I don’t care about the report.”
She stared at him.
“Yesterday you almost fired me because one customs stamp was missing.”
Callum dropped cash beside his untouched drink.
“Yesterday you weren’t bleeding through your shoe.”
Sadie closed the portfolio.
“I can go home.”
“No.”
Her eyes lifted.
“I said I can go home.”
“And I said no.”
Something changed.
Not anger.
Fear.
Callum saw it.
“Why are you afraid?”
Sadie said nothing.
He stepped closer.
“Whoever did this might know where you live.”
Her face went pale.
That was the answer.
This wasn’t random.
Callum lowered his voice.
“Who hurt you?”
Sadie whispered.
“Please.”
“Give me a name.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Her voice shook.
“Because he works for you.”
The entire world seemed to stop.
Callum didn’t move.
Behind him, his bodyguard Marcus slowly looked up.
Callum’s voice became dangerously quiet.
“Say that again.”
Sadie looked toward the door.
“He told me if I said anything…”
Her hands tightened.
“I wouldn’t make it home tomorrow.”
Callum picked up her portfolio.
“Then he made a mistake.”
Sadie looked at him.
“What mistake?”
Callum offered his arm.
“He thought I would let you walk home alone.”
May you like
And for the first time that night…
Someone inside Callum Russo’s empire had given him a reason to be angry.
