Two months following the public coronation at the Drake Hotel, winter began to loosen its icy grip on the city of Chicago. The dirty snowbanks along Lake Shore Drive melted into crystalline slush under the pale February sun, but in the underworld, peace was a fragile jewel guarded only by drawn blades and constant vigilance. Inside the sprawling eighty-acre Lake Forest estate, Donna Isla Falcone sat at the heavy carved…
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