I glanced at the closed doors, listening for any sound in the hallway.

Nothing but the low hum of the air conditioning.

I reached out, my fingers trembling as I slid the folder out from under the heavy brass weight.

I opened it.

The first page was a detailed timeline of James’s activities over the past six months under his new alias.

There were photos of him exiting a bank in downtown Chicago, holding a black leather briefcase.

My stomach sickened as I read the financial audit sheet on the second page.

James had used my stolen life savings, fifty thousand dollars, to pay off an old gambling debt to a Moretti enforcer.

But he had not stopped there.

He was now working directly for Lorenzo Moretti, helping him smuggle illicit shipments through the North Avenue wharf.

According to the intelligence notes, Moretti was using James’s clean record to set up front businesses for the family.

There was a yellow sticky note attached to the last page, written in sharp, elegant handwriting.

*Locate his associates. Check the ex-girlfriend, Sophia Mitchell.*

My breath hitched in my throat.