Chapter 4 - THE LULLABY
The leather chair beneath me felt like it was spinning.
"I am her daughter," I said, my voice rising in panic. "She has my birth certificate. She has photos of her pregnant!"
"Fakes," Dante said, staring into the dead fireplace. "Bought and paid for by me. To hide you."
"Hide me from who?"
Before Dante could answer, Leo woke up. The transition from sleep to terror was instant. He began to wail, a deep, full-bodied cry that echoed off the high library ceilings.
I tried to bounce him, but my arms were shaking too badly.
Dante stepped forward to take him, but as his large hands reached for the boy, Leo screamed louder, arching his back away from his father and pressing tighter into me.
Instinct took over. Desperation and muscle memory.
I pulled Leo close, tucked his head under my chin, and began to hum.
It was a low, mournful melody. A Spanish lullaby about a bird lost at sea. My mother—Rosa—had sung it to me every night when the thunder was too loud or the bills were too high.
Leo stopped crying immediately. His small body went entirely limp against me, his breathing slowing to match the rhythm of the song.
I looked up.
Dante was staring at me, the color completely drained from his face. The powerful, untouchable boss of the Boston underworld looked like he had just seen a ghost.
"Where did you learn that song?" Dante choked out.
"My mother," I whispered. "She sang it to me."
"No," Dante said, stepping back. "No, she didn't."
"She did!"
"That song," Dante said, his voice shaking with sudden, violent fury, "was written by my wife. She composed it on the piano in this very room. She never wrote it down. She never recorded it."
He pointed a shaking finger at me. "She only ever sang it to one person. Our son. Gabriel. Leo's father."
Silence crashed over the room.
If my mother was just a housekeeper... if she had taken me into hiding... how did she know the private song of a dead mafia wife?
Suddenly, the heavy oak doors of the library slammed open.
Silas, the bodyguard who had looked so offended at the restaurant, stood in the doorway. But he wasn't looking at Dante.
He was looking at me.
And he had a suppressed pistol raised directly at my chest.
"Put the baby down, Alina," Silas said. His voice was dead, devoid of the respect he had shown earlier.
Dante turned, his body instinctively shielding mine. "Silas. Drop it. Now."
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"I can't, boss," Silas said, stepping fully into the room. "Moretti pays better than you do these days. And Moretti wants the girl."
Silas cocked the gun. "He said the locket is the key, but her blood is the lock."
