Chapter 15
The underworld still whispered the name Silas Thorne with absolute terror.
They still feared the man who could wipe out entire bloodlines with a single command.
But rumors slowly began to spread among the syndicates, confusing and baffling the most hardened criminals.
They said the ruthless crime lord had a weakness.
They said that if you wanted a favor from the devil, you didn't offer him money or blood.
You sent a donation to a specific private elementary school, or you offered a rare set of colored pencils.
No one dared to verify the rumors, because anyone who looked too closely at Silas Thorne’s new family disappeared entirely.
He remained a monster to the world, a curse with a pulse that choked the Midwest.
But inside the secure walls of the high-rise penthouse, the monster was finally at peace.
He had paid his debt to the ghost of Arthur Hayes.
He had pulled a mother and daughter out of the freezing rain and built a fortress around them.
And in return, they had pulled him out of the grave he had been digging for himself.
As the years passed, the terrifying mafia boss would often be found sitting at a small, yellow vinyl table he had custom-ordered for the penthouse.
He would sit there for hours, reviewing illicit ledgers and ordering executions, all while a little girl with mismatched braids sat across from him.
She would color crooked purple moons and bright green castles, using her brass key to hold the paper down.
And occasionally, when she dropped a pencil, the most dangerous man in the city would stop everything he was doing.
May you like
He would bend down, pick it up, and hand it back.
Because in this house, they knew exactly how to say excuse me.
