Chapter 3
The tension in the ballroom thickened, wrapping around the guests like a heavy velvet curtain. Dominic Moretti remained perfectly still on his knees, his intense gaze locked onto the tiny three-year-old girl. Behind him, Ethan shifted nervously in his chair, his polite, gentle demeanor giving way to genuine anxiety.
"Lily, what do you mean it was bad?" Elena asked, her voice a frantic, hushed whisper as she hovered inches behind her daughter. "It’s just cake, sweetheart. Please, apologize to Mr. Moretti and Ethan."
"No, Mama," Lily replied stubbornly, shaking her curly brown hair. "It’s bad. Ethan will get sick."
Dominic raised his hand again, silencing Elena without needing to look at her. He leaned in slightly closer to the toddler, his ruggedly handsome face completely unreadable. The bright cinematic lighting of the ballroom caught the luxury wristwatch on his wrist as he rested his arm on his knee.
"Lily, look at me," Dominic said, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Did someone tell you the cake was bad?"
Lily shook her head, her fair, rosy cheeks puffing out slightly. "I saw."
"What did you see, sweetheart?" Ethan asked, his voice trembling slightly. The eight-year-old boy in the navy suit gripped the edge of the mahogany table, looking from his ruined dessert to his small friend. "Who made it bad?"
Lily turned her gaze away from Dominic and raised her small arm. She pointed her tiny finger directly toward the grand arched doorway that led to the kitchen service corridor. The long hallway was heavily shadowed, usually bustling with catering staff, but currently eerily still.
"A man touched Ethan’s cake," Lily whispered, her clear, innocent voice echoing perfectly in the dead silence of the ballroom.
Dominic’s eyes narrowed, a sudden, dangerous coldness flashing in his gaze. He didn't look at the corridor; he kept his eyes on the child, evaluating the absolute certainty in her posture.
"A man in the kitchen?" Dominic asked softly, his tone deceptively gentle. "One of the bakers? A waiter?"
"No," Lily replied, stepping slightly closer to Dominic, seemingly recognizing him as a protector rather than a threat. "He didn't wear a white shirt like the food men. He wore a dark jacket. He thought nobody was looking, but I was hiding under the big silver table."
Elena gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "Lily, you know you aren't supposed to hide in the kitchens during an event!"
"It doesn't matter where she was hiding, Elena," Dominic interrupted, his voice dropping into a register that made the bodyguards in the room instantly grip their concealed weapons. "What matters is what she saw."
Dominic stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a shadow over the marble floor once again. The fatherly warmth he had displayed moments ago vanished completely, replaced by the terrifying, calculating aura of the Mafia Boss. He looked toward the service corridor, his jaw tightening.
"Marcus," Dominic called out.
Instantly, a broad-shouldered bodyguard stepped forward from the perimeter. "Yes, Boss."
"Lock down the kitchen. No one goes in, no one comes out," Dominic ordered, his eyes sweeping the room. "And somebody find Dr. Harris. Get him in here right now with his medical kit."
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"Dad, what's happening?" Ethan asked, panic finally bleeding into his well-mannered voice.
Dominic walked over to his son, placing a large, reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder. "Everything is fine, Ethan. We are just going to make sure the cake is exactly as it should be. Nobody is going to hurt you. I promise."
