Chapter 6
Dominic froze halfway to his feet. He slowly sank back down onto his knees, his intense, commanding presence laser-focused on the tiny girl in the yellow dress. The entire room seemed to hold its collective breath.
"A shiny pin?" Dominic asked, his voice a low, steady whisper. "What kind of shiny pin, Lily?"
Lily stepped out from behind her mother’s protective embrace. She smoothed down her white apron, mimicking the neatness of her mother, and walked a few feet closer to the perimeter of guards. She was unusually fearless, her innocent mind entirely focused on solving the puzzle that had almost hurt her friend.
"It was gold," Lily explained, holding up her small hand to indicate the size. "It was shaped like a bird. A bird with its wings open. It was right here." She tapped the left lapel of her bright yellow dress.
Dominic’s blood ran cold. The ruggedly handsome Mafia Boss felt a terrifying chill run down his spine. He didn't need to ask what the pin looked like. He knew exactly what it was. It was a golden falcon with outstretched wings—the exclusive insignia worn only by his personal, inner-circle security detail. It was a mark of absolute trust, given only to the men sworn to protect his family with their lives.
The traitor wasn't a rival boss. It wasn't a disgruntled servant. It was one of his own elite guards.
"Are you sure it was a gold bird, Lily?" Elena asked, her voice cracking as she realized the implications. "Are you absolutely certain?"
"Yes, Mama," Lily nodded affirmatively, her curly brown hair bouncing.
She turned her observant gaze toward the grand arched doorway that led to the service corridor. Standing exactly ten feet away, guarding the very entrance the poisoner had used, was a tall, imposing security man in a dark suit.
Lily raised her tiny arm. She pointed her finger directly at the man’s chest.
"The man had the same gold pin as him," Lily said quietly, her voice ringing out in the dead silence of the ballroom.
The air in the room instantly turned lethal. Every single guest, every bodyguard, and Dr. Harris turned their heads to look at the guard standing by the corridor.
The guard’s name was Vincenzo. He was a trusted lieutenant, a man who had worked for the Moretti family for five years. His fair, rosy skin suddenly drained of all color, turning a sickly, ashen gray. He swallowed hard, a bead of sweat breaking out on his forehead under the bright cinematic lighting.
Dominic did not rush. He did not shout. He slowly stood up to his full, towering height, the elegant white suit framing his muscular build. He turned his head, his thick dark hair shifting slightly, and locked his pale, terrifying eyes onto Vincenzo.
The slow turn of Dominic Moretti was the stuff of nightmares. It was the movement of an apex predator locking onto its prey.
"Vincenzo," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm, devoid of all warmth and humanity.
"Boss, I swear, the kid is confused!" Vincenzo stammered, his hands instinctively dropping toward the weapon holstered beneath his dark jacket. "I didn't leave this door! I didn't go into the kitchen!"
"Don't touch your weapon," Dominic warned softly, taking a single, deliberate step forward in his polished white shoes. "If your hand moves another inch, you won't live to see the end of this party."
Vincenzo froze, his hands hovering over his waist. The other guards in the room, wearing the same golden falcon pins, instantly drew their firearms and leveled them directly at their former comrade.
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"I'm telling the truth, Dominic!" Vincenzo pleaded, panic rising in his American accent. "She's just a baby! You're going to trust a three-year-old over a man who took a bullet for you in Chicago?!"
Dominic didn't blink. "Search him."
