Chapter 5 - The Lost Night
The air inside the study turned heavy with memories that had been buried for four painful years.
Claire looked down at her daughter's brown braids, tears finally spilling over her lashes and splashing onto her white apron.
"Four years ago, I was a twenty-four-year-old nursing student working night shifts at St. Jude’s Urgent Care," Claire whispered, her voice trembling. "You stumbled into the back alley with two gunshot wounds in your shoulder. I dragged you into my apartment, cleaned your wounds, and stayed up all night holding a towel against your chest to keep you from bleeding to death."
Dominic leaned down, dropping onto one knee beside her chair, just as he had done for Sophie in the hallway minutes earlier. His broad hand reached out, gently covering Claire's cold, shaking fingers.
"I remember," Dominic said quietly. "I remember waking up in your apartment. I left that silver pendant on your nightstand as a promise that I would return to protect you."
"You didn't return," Claire sobbed quietly. "Two days later, a man in an expensive suit came to my apartment. He told me he was your senior advisor. He showed me news articles about the Valenti syndicate war. He gave me a stack of cash and told me that if I ever tried to contact you again, or if anyone found out about that night, your enemies would murder me and anyone associated with me."
Dominic’s dark eyes flashed with an immediate, terrifying spark of fury. His jaw set so hard the muscle flexed beneath his trimmed beard. "Which advisor, Claire?"
"He had gray hair and a scar across his jaw," Claire revealed softly. "He called himself Julian."
Marco took a sharp step forward from the doorway, his jaw dropping in shock. "Julian Vance... your father's old counselor."
Dominic stood up, his broad chest rising and falling heavily as a dark, dangerous realization settled over him. Four years ago, Julian Vance had tried to seize control of the Valenti syndicate during the winter war. Julian had lied to Claire to drive her into hiding, ensuring that Dominic would never find out he had a biological heir.
Dominic looked down at three-year-old Sophie, who was reaching out her small hand to touch his gold wristwatch.
"Julian lied to you, Claire," Dominic said, his baritone voice dripping with lethal resolve. "I searched for you for six months after that night. Julian told me you had been killed in a hit-and-run accident."
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Claire gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "He... he told you I was dead?"
"Yes," Dominic whispered, leaning down to gently stroke Sophie's soft cheek. "He kept my daughter from me for three years."
