Sophia tapped her tablet, and the green light on the desk phone went completely black.

“The SUV outside is mine,” Sophia said to me.

“It will take you to the private airstrip.”

“There is a plane waiting to take you west.”

I looked at Marcus, whose chest rose and fell with heavy, ragged breaths.

The powerful man who had ruled the Chicago underground looked suddenly small in the dim office.

“You’re leaving,” Marcus said, looking at me.

“I have to,” I said.

“I cannot raise our child in this darkness.”

He looked down at the desk, his hand resting on the polished mahogany.

“There is nothing left here anyway,” Marcus said, his voice flat.

“They will freeze the accounts by morning.”

“Not all of them,” Sophia said, stepping forward.

“I set up a trust in Zurich under a maiden name.”

“It is clean, and it belongs entirely to Elena and the child.”

“You did that with my credentials?” Marcus asked, a faint, bitter smile touching his lips.

“I did,” Sophia said.

“Consider it a severance package for your wife.”