1 “Touch Her Again,” the Mafia Boss Warned His Fiancée—Then His Next Move Left the Restaurant Frozen

Dominic's mother had died when he was seventeen.

He remembered her as a woman who could silence a room with a look and make a frightened child feel safe with a single touch. His uncle had told him she'd died from complications after a long illness. The family never discussed her death.

Now her photograph lay on the desk beside evidence of a missing newborn.

“Why would my mother be holding that baby?” Dominic asked.

Khloe sat across from him.

“Maybe she was helping someone.”

“Or maybe she was the person who took the child.”

“Those are very different things.”

“Not to the people who buried the truth.”

He walked to the window.

For the first time since she'd met him, Khloe saw uncertainty in his posture. Dominic could command a room, intimidate a senator, and stop armed men with a word. But he had no control over the memories that had shaped him.

“My uncle raised me after she died,” he said. “He told me never to ask about the fire.”

“Did you?”

“When I was younger. He broke my father's favorite glass against the wall and told me that dead people couldn't defend themselves.”

Khloe's heart ached for the boy he'd been.

“And you believed him.”

“I was seventeen.”

“You were a child.”

He looked at her.

Nobody had ever offered him that distinction.

The next day, Dominic arranged a discreet meeting with an elderly retired nurse named Margaret Ellis. She had worked at the Costello estate during the year of the fire and now lived in a small apartment outside Boston.

When she opened the door, she recognized Elena Costello's photograph immediately.

“I wondered when somebody would come asking,” she said.

Khloe leaned forward.

“Do you know what happened to the baby?”

Margaret's hands trembled.

“I know what I saw. A young woman arrived at the estate shortly before the fire. She was pregnant, unmarried, and terrified. Elena took her upstairs and refused to let anyone near her.”

“Who was the woman?”

“I never learned her real name. But your father did.”

Margaret looked at Khloe.

“He was the only man in that family who ever treated the staff like human beings.”

“What happened that night?”

“Someone set fire to the east wing. Elena carried the baby out herself. Your father helped her. I saw them leave through the service gate.”

Dominic went completely still.

“My mother survived the fire?”

“For a little while. She was injured. Your uncle told everyone she died in the hospital, but I never saw a death certificate.”

Khloe gripped the edge of the chair.

“Where did she go?”

Margaret shook her head.

“Your father took the baby. Elena went somewhere else. A few weeks later, Daniel came to me and begged me to keep quiet. He said the child was safer if nobody knew she existed.”

“Did he tell you who the baby was?”

Margaret hesitated.

Then she looked directly at Khloe.

“He said she was the daughter of the man who would eventually inherit everything.”

Dominic's expression became frighteningly blank.

“My father?”

Margaret nodded.

Dominic's father had died in a car accident when Dominic was twelve. His uncle had become guardian, trustee, and head of the family.

The missing child wasn't simply a witness to a crime.

She was a potential heir.

“Why would my uncle hide his own brother's daughter?” Dominic asked.

“Because the child was born after your father's first wife disappeared. If she was alive, she could challenge the inheritance your uncle controlled.”

Khloe remembered the words on the envelope.

The child survived the fire.

“Where is she now?” Khloe asked.

Margaret closed her eyes.

“I don't know. Daniel said he had arranged a safe adoption. He never gave me the name.”

Dominic stood.

“Thank you.”

Before they could leave, Margaret caught Khloe's wrist.

“Your mother knew the truth. She kept the locket because she promised Elena she'd never let the child be forgotten.”

Khloe stared at her.

“Why didn't my mother tell me?”

“Because your father believed someone would kill you if you knew.”

On the drive back, neither Khloe nor Dominic spoke.

The gala invitation sat on the seat between them.

That evening, Khloe wore a simple black gown selected by a stylist who worked for Dominic. She refused the diamond necklace offered to her.

“I don't want to look like one of your possessions,” she said.

“Then don't.”

He wore a black tuxedo without a tie. Together, they entered the Kensington Foundation's ballroom beneath chandeliers bright enough to illuminate every lie in the room.

Conversation faltered.

Phones rose.

Vivien stood beside her father, dressed in silver, her smile disappearing when she saw Khloe.

“You actually brought her?” she whispered to Dominic.

“No,” he replied. “She brought herself.”

Senator Kensington approached with the polished smile of a man who had survived a dozen scandals.

“Dominic. We need to talk privately.”

“We can talk here.”

The senator's gaze shifted to Khloe.

“Miss Bennett, I believe the police would appreciate your cooperation.”

“Then they can ask me questions after you explain why someone broke into my apartment.”

The senator's smile tightened.

“I'm not responsible for the behavior of every criminal in Boston.”

“Perhaps not. But you seem very familiar with the ones who know my name.”

A murmur moved through the crowd.

Vivien stepped forward.

“You have no right to accuse my father.”

Khloe looked at her.

“And you had no right to hit me.”

Vivien's face reddened.

“You attacked me!”

“After you slapped me. There are cameras.”

Dominic raised a hand.

“Enough.”

He turned toward the ballroom's stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, before the foundation begins its presentation, I'd like to share something about the people who have been asking you to trust them.”

The senator's smile vanished.

“Dominic, don't.”

Dominic signaled Matteo.

The large screen behind the stage flickered on.

A photograph appeared: Elena Costello holding the missing baby.

Then another: Daniel Bennett beside Senator Kensington.

Then a third: the original fire report, its final page signed by a man whose name had been blacked out in the public record.

The room erupted.

Vivien stared at the screen.

Her father reached for Dominic's arm.

“You don't know what you're doing.”

Dominic looked at him.