Chapter 1: The Ledger of Hunger
The marble dining hall was silent enough to hear a breath shatter. Vincent Cane looked down at the tiny pink dress, his hand hovering over the lowball glass of scotch. On the lined sheet from a dime-store spiral pad, numbers were scrawled in faded blue ink. At the bottom, drawn with a waxy purple crayon, were three crude stars.
"My mom worked seventy-seven days," five-year-old Lily said, her voice steady in the quiet room. "She didn't eat dinner on the star nights."
Behind him, Declan stood frozen in the arched doorway, his brass keys dangling loose from his fingers. The armed guards in black suits didn't twitch, but the air felt heavy. Vincent’s jaw locked. The name at the top was his: *Vincent Cane*. Below it were not debts owed to him, but debts owed *by* him—entries made in the neat, cramped handwriting he hadn't seen in six years.
"What is your mother's name, little girl?" Vincent’s voice was a low rasp, stripped of its usual boardroom bite.
"Clara," she whispered. "Clara Vance."
A ripple passed through Vincent’s chest, like a cold blade slipping between his ribs. Clara. The girl from the old North End district who refused to run when his world went to war. The woman he had abandoned in the dark to keep his enemies from finding her.
"Where is she, Lily?"
Lily pointed toward the grand double doors of the private club. "Outside. She sat down on the curb because her knees were shaking too hard to walk."
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Vincent stood up so fast his heavy armchair scraped against the polished parquet floor. He didn't look at his men. He didn't finish his drink. He simply picked up the small pad of paper, folded it once, and walked out into the rain.
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