Chapter 1 - THE EMPTY SIDE OF THE BED
“Clara?”
Matteo Falcone’s voice echoed through the bedroom.
Nothing.
He threw the covers aside and stood.
The room was exactly as he had left it.
Her jewelry box sat on the dresser.
Her perfume rested beside the mirror.
A pair of pale-blue heels stood beneath the vanity.
But Clara was gone.
Matteo walked into the bathroom.
Empty.
He opened the closet.
Her clothes were still there.
He checked the balcony.
Nothing.
For the first time in years, fear entered his chest without asking permission.
“Frank!”
The mansion exploded into movement.
Doors opened.
Footsteps rushed through hallways.
Frank Marino appeared less than a minute later, already dressed.
“Boss?”
“Where is my wife?”
Frank hesitated.
Matteo noticed.
That hesitation frightened him more than the question.
“You were the last person to see her.”
“I watched her walk into the rain.”
“And then?”
“I waited ten minutes.”
“You waited?”
“You told me to drive.”
Matteo stared at him.
Frank lowered his voice.
“She never came home.”
Matteo grabbed his phone.
Twenty-seven missed calls?
No.
Zero.
That was worse.
He called Clara.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
He called Evelyn Carter.
She answered on the fourth ring.
“Matteo?”
“Where is Clara?”
Silence.
Then Evelyn said, “I thought she was with you.”
His stomach dropped.
“She left the hotel alone.”
“What?”
“We argued.”
“About Peter?”
Matteo said nothing.
Evelyn understood.
“You left her there?”
His jaw tightened.
“I told her to walk.”
“You told your wife to walk home in a storm?”
“Where is she, Evelyn?”
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
“I am thinking!”
Her voice cracked.
“Clara called me from the parking garage.”
Matteo froze.
“When?”
“After you left.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know what happened!”
“What did she say?”
Evelyn breathed heavily.
“She said she was going somewhere you couldn't find her.”
Matteo's blood turned cold.
“Where?”
“She didn't tell me.”
“Anything else?”
A pause.
“She said something strange.”
“What?”
“She said, ‘If Matteo asks, tell him I'm done being afraid.’”
The line went dead.
Matteo stared at the phone.
Frank watched him.
“What did she say?”
Matteo slowly lowered the phone.
“She knew.”
“Knew what?”
Before Matteo could answer, one of the guards ran into the room.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found Mrs. Falcone's car.”
Matteo turned sharply.
“She drove?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
The guard swallowed.
“Near Navy Pier.”
Matteo grabbed his coat.
Five minutes later, three black SUVs tore through Chicago.
Rain hammered the windshield.
Matteo barely spoke.
His mind replayed the previous night.
Her eyes.
Her trembling hands.
The sentence he couldn't take back.
Walk.
He had told her to walk.
When they reached Navy Pier, officers had already blocked off a small section of the waterfront.
Matteo stepped out.
Frank followed.
A black sedan sat abandoned near the curb.
Clara's purse was inside.
Her wallet.
Her driver's license.
Her wedding ring was missing.
Matteo's heart stopped.
He approached the car.
“Don't touch anything,” a detective warned.
Matteo ignored him.
The detective stepped closer.
“You Matteo Falcone?”
“Yes.”
“I'm Detective Marcus Bell.”
Matteo looked at him.
“Where is my wife?”
Bell's expression changed.
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
Matteo stared at the empty sidewalk.
Then he noticed something beneath the windshield wiper.
A white envelope.
His name was written across it.
MATTEO.
His hands went cold.
He opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
You taught me how to disappear.
Nothing else.
Matteo read it twice.
Then a gunshot cracked somewhere in the distance.
Everyone ducked.
Frank immediately drew his weapon.
“Get the boss down!”
But Matteo wasn't looking for the shooter.
He was staring at the letter.
Because beneath Clara's handwriting was something he recognized.
A tiny black symbol.
A falcon with its wings folded.
His father's old mark.
A mark Matteo had not seen since the night his father died.
Frank noticed it too.
His face went pale.
“Boss…”
Matteo looked at him.
“Who else knows about that symbol?”
Frank didn't answer.
Matteo's voice became deadly quiet.
“Frank.”
His driver swallowed.
“Your brother.”
Matteo went still.
“My brother died six years ago.”
Frank shook his head.
“No, boss.”
He pointed toward the envelope.
“Your brother wasn't the one using it.”
“Then who was?”
Frank stared toward the dark water.
“Your father.”
Matteo's heart slammed against his ribs.
“My father is dead.”
May you like
Frank looked at him.
“So we thought.”
