Chapter 5 - THE ULTIMATUM
My hands shook so violently the ferry ticket slipped from my fingers, fluttering onto the wet asphalt. I stared at the handwritten note. The threat wasn't a vague mafia warning. It was precise, surgical, and aimed directly at the only person I loved in this world.
I snatched the ticket off the ground and ran back inside, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I found Dominic in the hallway outside Mia’s bedroom. He was leaning against the wall, watching the little girl sleep through the crack in the door. The hardened mafia boss looked entirely undone by the sight of her.
"Dominic," I gasped, out of breath. I shoved the note into his chest.
He unfolded it. As he read the words, the vulnerability in his face vanished, replaced by a cold, murderous fury. He didn't say a word. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
"Vito," Dominic commanded. "I need four of our best men at St. Jude’s Rehabilitation Center. Now. You stand outside Room 412. If a doctor, a nurse, or the Pope himself tries to enter that room without my authorization, you break their legs. Understood?" He hung up and looked at me. "Your mother is safe, Claire. I swear it on my life."
Tears pricked my eyes. "They're trying to get rid of me because I figured out the poison. Because I saved you."
"They're trying to isolate me," Dominic corrected gently, stepping closer. His large hand reached out, lightly brushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was shockingly warm. "But they underestimated you."
From inside the bedroom, a small voice called out. "Claire?"
I quickly wiped my eyes and pushed the door open. Mia was sitting up in bed, rubbing her eyes. "I'm right here, sweetie."
"I can't sleep," she whispered. She looked at Dominic, who lingered in the doorway, giving her space. "Are you really my daddy?"
Dominic's breath hitched. He stepped into the room, sinking to his knees beside the bed. "I don't know, Mia. But I promise you, nobody is ever going to hurt you again."
Mia reached under her pillow. She pulled out a delicate, braided leather bracelet. It looked handmade, the kind of thing a child makes at a craft table. But dangling from the center wasn't a bead—it was a tiny, intricate brass key.
"Mommy said if the bad men came, I had to give this to the person who helped me," Mia said, holding it out to me.
I took the bracelet, my fingers tracing the jagged teeth of the small key.
Answer one: Mia had been instructed to trust whoever rescued her. Open one: what did the key open? Open two: who was the "Mommy" who gave her these instructions?
Dominic stared at the key. "I know that lock. It belongs to the mahogany desk in the library. The one Elena used for her personal correspondence."
"The library is still off-limits until the gas clears completely," I warned.
"I don't care," Dominic said, taking the key. "Stay here with her."
He returned ten minutes later. He smelled like ash and cold air. In his hands, he held a manila folder. His face was devoid of color.
"It's not about Elena," Dominic said, his voice hollow. "It's Anthony's private ledgers. He hid them in my wife's desk because he knew it was the one place in this house I forbade anyone from entering. He's been embezzling millions from the syndicate's pension funds. If the Five Families found out, they would kill him."
My mind raced. "He needed you dead so he could take over and cover up the theft."
Suddenly, the front doors of the mansion burst open with a deafening crash. Heavy boots pounded against the marble floors of the foyer.
Marcus sprinted up the stairs, his weapon drawn, but his face was panicked. "Boss! It's the Chicago PD. A dozen cruisers. They bypassed the gate."
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Dominic stepped out into the hallway just as a team of heavily armed tactical officers swarmed the top of the stairs, their weapons raised.
"Dominic Caruso!" the lead detective shouted. "Put your hands behind your head! You are under arrest for the murder of Elena Caruso!"
