Chapter 7
Two heavy-set bodyguards advanced on Vincenzo immediately, their weapons drawn and steady. They slammed the traitor against the thick mahogany paneling of the ballroom wall, ignoring his frantic protests. One guard pinned Vincenzo’s arms behind his back with brutal efficiency, while the other began a rapid, expert search of his dark suit.
Dominic stood perfectly still, his ruggedly handsome face a mask of cold stone. He shielded Ethan behind him, keeping his son close, while Elena scooped Lily up into her arms, pressing the brave toddler against her pale-blue maid uniform.
The bright cinematic colors of the ballroom seemed to contrast sharply with the dark, violent reality unfolding. The wealthy guests huddled together in terrified silence, knowing that witnessing the internal justice of the Moretti family was a highly dangerous position to be in.
"I didn't do anything!" Vincenzo shouted, struggling against the heavy hands pinning him. "This is a setup! The kid is lying, or someone else had a pin! Check the catering staff!"
The bodyguard conducting the search reached into the deep, inner breast pocket of Vincenzo’s dark jacket. He paused, his expression hardening. He pulled his hand out and turned toward Dominic.
Resting in the bodyguard’s palm was a small, flat silver box.
A collective gasp echoed through the room. Lily’s observant eyes had been perfectly accurate.
"Bring it to Dr. Harris," Dominic ordered, his voice devoid of all inflection.
The guard walked over and handed the silver box to the physician. Dr. Harris, maintaining his calm, intelligent composure, placed the box on the edge of the dining table. He used his gloved hands to carefully pry the lid open. Inside was a small trace of fine, crystalline white powder.
Dr. Harris quickly swabbed the powder, adding it to a fresh vial of clear liquid from his testing kit. The entire room watched in breathless anticipation. Within seconds, the liquid turned the exact same vibrant, sickly shade of violet as the frosting test.
"It’s a perfect match, Dominic," Dr. Harris confirmed, closing the silver box and sealing it in a plastic evidence bag. "This is the source of the neurotoxin."
Vincenzo stopped struggling. His shoulders slumped, the defiance draining from his body as the irrefutable evidence was laid bare. His fair skin was slick with cold sweat.
Dominic walked slowly across the marble floor, stopping inches away from the pinned traitor. The immense, muscular Mafia Boss stared down at the man he had trusted with his son's life. The betrayal was a physical weight in the room.
"You brought poison into my home," Dominic said softly, the terrifying calmness in his voice far worse than any screaming rage. "You smiled at my son, wished him a happy birthday, and then walked into the corridor to murder him."
"Dominic, please, you have to listen to me," Vincenzo begged, his American accent trembling with genuine terror. "They threatened my family! They said if I didn't do it, my wife and kids would be dead by morning! I had no choice!"
"There is always a choice," Dominic replied smoothly. "You could have come to me. I would have protected your family, and I would have slaughtered the men threatening you. Instead, you chose to murder an eight-year-old boy."
"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Vincenzo wept, his knees buckling, held up only by the guards restraining him.
"Who gave you the order?" Dominic demanded, leaning in closer, the tattoos visible beneath his open-collar shirt seeming to shift with his tense muscles. "Give me a name, Vincenzo. Give me the name, and I will make your end quick."
Vincenzo squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head frantically. "I can't. If I say his name, he’ll kill my family anyway. You don't understand how deep this goes, Dominic. It’s not just a rival family. It’s inside the house."
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Dominic’s pale eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, inside the house?"
Vincenzo looked up, a manic, desperate laugh escaping his lips. "You think the cake was the only part of the plan? You think they would rely entirely on me?"
