Chapter 1 - the metal bowl
The dining room of the Bellaro estate smelled of roasted rack of lamb and expensive red wine. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the mahogany table, where seven-year-old Maisie sat quietly in her pale-pink dinner dress. Her satin ribbon was neatly tied, her small hands resting politely on her lap.
Vivienne Bellaro stood over the little girl. Her emerald evening gown shimmered under the lights, and her diamond earrings caught the reflection of the silver tableware. With a cold, contemptuous flick of her wrist, Vivienne snatched Maisie’s dinner plate away and set down a heavy metal dog bowl filled with brown, wet kibble.
"Eat it," Vivienne said, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. She grabbed Maisie by her small wrist, squeezing hard enough to leave a red mark, and jammed the bowl closer to her face. "That’s what you’ll be eating from now on."
Maisie’s eyes filled with tears, her lip trembling. "Please, Stepmom..."
"Don't call me that," Vivienne sneered, lifting a silver spoon from the table and filling it with the dog food. "Open your mouth."
The double oak doors of the dining room slammed open.
Dominic Bellaro stepped into the room. Broad-shouldered, battle-hardened, and imposing in a perfectly tailored black tuxedo, the legendary Mafia Don moved with frightening calm. His icy grey eyes swept across the table, locking onto Vivienne’s hand raised above his daughter.
In two heavy strides, Dominic bridged the distance. His hand shot out, clamping around Vivienne’s wrist with iron force. He twisted her arm back, forcing her fingers to unlock, and knocked the spoon onto the marble floor with a sharp clatter.
Maisie scrambled out of her chair instantly. She ran behind Dominic, clutching the silk lining of his suit jacket with both hands, hiding her tear-streaked face against his back.
"She makes me eat this whenever you're away," Maisie sobbed softly into his jacket.
Dominic didn't utter a single word. His face was a mask of cold stone. He reached down, picked up the entire metal dog bowl, and inverted it directly over Vivienne’s head. Wet meat and gravy slid down her freshly styled hair, staining her expensive emerald gown.
Before Vivienne could react, Dominic delivered an open-handed slap across her face. The force of the strike sent her flying backward into a heavy carved dining chair. The chair shattered on impact, wooden splinters and torn leather scattering across the polished floorboards.
Silence descended on the grand room, broken only by the crackle of the fireplace.
Vivienne hauled herself up from the wreckage. She wiped a smear of food from her cheek, her skin already bruising dark red. Her eyes burned with pure malice as she glared at the man who ruled New York's underworld.
"If you keep that little brat," Vivienne hissed venomously, her voice shaking with rage, "you'll lose your true heir!"
Dominic took a slow step forward, his polished leather shoes crunching over broken wood. His expression remained terrifyingly composure-less.
"The information you overheard was wrong," Dominic said, his voice ice-cold. "Maisie is my only heir."
Vivienne froze, her jaw dropping as shock replaced her anger.
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Before she could speak, the heavy side door opened. Mateo, Dominic’s chief of security, walked in holding a sleek silver briefcase recovered from Vivienne’s private dressing room.
"Boss," Mateo said, his voice grave. "We searched her quarters. We found this inside her safe—along with a keycard to a private vault registered under Victor Moretti's name."
