Chapter 6 - The Dinner Invitation
By Friday evening, Sadie’s life had fundamentally ceased to resemble anything she had ever known.
She lived in a newly renovated one-bedroom apartment on Pine Street—rent-paid, utilities covered, security deposit settled by an anonymous corporate entity that conveniently required no signatures from her. Her right hand was healing nicely under proper medical care, and her bank account displayed a balance that made her want to weep with relief every time she opened the banking app on her phone.
Yet, peace in Dominic Russo’s orbit was a fragile, temporary illusion.
At 6:30 PM, a black sedan idling outside her apartment building transported her not back to her office desk, but to an exclusive, members-only restaurant on the Delaware River—a sprawling, glass-fronted establishment called The Anchorage.
The place was entirely empty except for a single table reserved near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water.
Dominic was already seated. He wore a dark charcoal suit, his expression neutral as he watched the lights of the cargo ships blinking in the dark channel outside. Across from him sat a man Sadie recognized immediately from her background files: Marcus, Dominic’s head of security.
Marcus looked tense. His fingers tapped a restless rhythm against the starched white tablecloth, and his eyes darted nervously toward the private security guards stationed near the exit doors.
Sadie hesitated near the entrance, but Dominic raised a hand, signaling her to approach.
"Sit," Dominic instructed, gesturing to the chair beside him.
Sadie sat down, keeping her posture rigid. She noticed that Marcus was sweating lightly under the collar, his breathing shallow and erratic.
"You wanted a audit of the security logs from Tuesday night, boss," Marcus said, his voice tight with forced casualness. "I brought the digital drives. Everything from the front gate sensors to the kitchen delivery manifests."
Dominic didn't touch the drives. Instead, he slid a single piece of paper across the table toward Marcus.
Marcus glanced down at it. His face drained of color instantly, the remaining tan evaporating until he looked like a corpse under fluorescence.
"Recognize that account number, Marcus?" Dominic asked softly.
Marcus swallowed hard, his throat working convulsively. "Boss... I can explain. It was a bad spot. Some guys from the ports, they had leverage—"
"They had your gambling debts," Dominic finished for him, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper. "Forty thousand dollars transferred from an offshore holding account controlled by Vincent Marone—the exact man who wants my shipping contracts."
Marcus slammed his hands onto the table, half-rising from his chair. "He was going to break my legs, Dominic! What was I supposed to do? He just wanted your schedule! He swore nobody was going to get hurt!"
"And the giant?" Dominic asked, his dark eyes locking onto Marcus with the weight of a firing squad. "Did Marone swear the three-hundred-pound executioner was just going to politely ask me to step down?"
Marcus choked on his own breath, sinking back down into his chair, trembling violently. "I didn't know he was going to send a killer... I swear to God, I just thought he wanted to lean on you..."
Dominic raised his hand.
Before Marcus could draw another breath, two of the guards stepped forward from the shadows, their large hands clamping firmly onto Marcus’s shoulders. They didn't shout, they didn't make a scene; they simply lifted the head of security out of his chair with terrifying efficiency and marched him toward the service exit.
"Boss! Dominic, please! We go back ten years! Dominic—!"
The heavy oak door clicked shut, cutting off the plea entirely.
Silence descended over the table once more, broken only by the gentle lapping of river water against the concrete pilings outside.
Dominic picked up his wine glass, swirled the dark red liquid slowly, and looked across at Sadie.
"You found the transfer record yesterday afternoon," Dominic stated.
"It was hidden inside the logistics sub-folder," Sadie admitted quietly, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Anyone with basic forensic accounting skills could have found it if they knew where to look."
"Most people in my organization don't look where they aren't told to," Dominic replied, setting his glass down. "They take orders. They collect envelopes. They look the other way. But you... you look at the numbers until they make sense."
May you like
He leaned back, studying her with an expression that was difficult to read—a mixture of professional respect and something far more personal.
"Marcus was a traitor," Dominic continued evenly. "He opened the door. But Marone is the one who walked through it. And tomorrow morning, we are going to close that door permanently."
