Chapter 2 - the consigliere's warning
Gabriel did not break eye contact with Vincent. The air in the private office turned icy.
"What do you mean, wasn't supposed to?" Gabriel asked, his voice deceptively soft.
Vincent swallowed, adjusting the cuff of his charcoal jacket. He looked at Hannah, whose trembling hands were now clutching the edge of her apron, then back at Gabriel. "Julian signed a pledge with the Chicago Commission five years ago, Don Gabriel. Part of the peace treaty after his trial was that he would remain unmarried and leave no blood heirs to contest the Midwest territories."
Hannah gasped softly, taking a step closer to Gabriel. "Julian never told me about any treaty! He told me he was leaving New York for good so we could raise Grace in peace!"
"He lied to protect you," Vincent said coldly, turning his gaze to Hannah. "Because if Chicago finds out Julian broke the treaty before he died, they won't just claim the port deal—they will send hitmen to eliminate every trace of his bloodline."
Gabriel looked down at Grace. The baby let out a soft coo, reaching up to pat his stubbled cheek with her tiny hand. The cold, calculating Don who had spent fifteen years building an untouchable criminal empire felt a sudden, fierce warmth ignite in his chest.
"Nobody touches this child," Gabriel said, his voice absolute. "Vincent, lock down the estate. Pull my personal security detail from the docks and place them on the residential perimeter."
Vincent hesitated, his eyes darting toward the silver medal still held in Gabriel’s palm. "Don Gabriel, if we mobilize the inner guard for a maid’s child, the Commission will ask questions."
"Let them ask," Gabriel growled. "Or are you refusing a direct command, Vincent?"
Vincent bowed his head respectfully. "Never, Boss. I'll arrange the perimeter immediately."
As Vincent turned and walked quickly down the carpeted hallway, Gabriel looked at Hannah. Her large brown eyes were wide with terror, tears catching on her lashes.
"Pack your things from the quarters downstairs," Gabriel commanded her gently. "You and Grace are moving into the third-floor suite next to my private quarters."
"Mr. Caruso... I'm just a housekeeper," Hannah pleaded, her voice cracking. "I brought Grace to work because I couldn't afford a sitter. I never wanted to cause trouble for your family."
"You didn't cause trouble," Gabriel said, looking down at his niece. "You brought my brother's daughter home."
Ten minutes later, Gabriel walked into his private archival study adjoining his office. He pulled a silver key from his vest pocket and unlocked the low mahogany cabinet where Julian’s personal belongings had been stored since his death six months ago.
He pulled out Julian’s leather-bound journal.
May you like
Gabriel flipped to the last entry, dated three days before the fatal car crash. Written in Julian’s hurried cursive was a single line that made Gabriel’s blood run cold:
Vincent knows about the baby. If I don't sign over the Midwest charter by Friday, he told me Chicago will make sure Grace never sees her first birthday.
