Chapter 1

The heavy oak door groaned on its hinges, a low, guttural sound that seemed to vibrate right through the soles of my heels. I stepped inside, leaving the damp chill of the Chicago street behind me, and was instantly swallowed by a wall of heat, smoke, and the thick, intoxicating scent of aged whiskey. It was a smell I knew well, though I had never experienced it quite like this before. It wasn't just the alcohol; it was the perfume of sin, the musk of sweat and expensive cologne, the damp wool of coats shaking off rain, and the sharp, metallic tang of copper pennies clinking in saucers. I adjusted my fur stole, though it did little to shield me from the humid warmth of the room. The air here was heavy, almost tangible, layered with the smoke from countless hand-rolled cigarettes that curled toward the low, soot-stained ceiling like grey ribbons. This was *The Velvet Trap*, a place whispered about in hushed tones, a prohibition-era speakeasy hidden beneath the pretense of a modest tailor shop on Wabash Avenue. I had found the location on a slip of parchment tucked into a copy of *The Great Gatsby* that my father