Chapter 3
The private dining room of Ristorante Bellagio felt as still as a tomb. Mara felt the pulse pounding in her neck as the towering Mafia boss leaned over her, his broad shoulders blocking the light of the crystal chandeliers. She could see the intricate black ink covering his skin, the terrifying black dragon tattoo stretching across his knuckles, and the sheer, desperate agony in his dark eyes.
"Her name... her name was Elena," Mara stammered, tears of terror welling in her expressive brown eyes. "Elena Vance-Bennett. She passed away three years ago."
The name echoed through the room like a thunderclap.
Dominic stood completely motionless, his hands dropping to his sides. The deathly pallor of his face deepened. Elena Vance—his long-lost cousin, the daughter of the original syndicate patriarch who was believed to have been executed during the purge twenty-five years ago. His father had assured the entire family that no survivors remained from that bloodline.
"Elena..." Dominic whispered, his voice cracking with profound disbelief. "She was alive?"
"She raised me in a small town in upstate New York," Mara explained, her trembling hand holding baby Nico tightly. "She was always hiding, always sick. She gave me this necklace on her deathbed and told me never to show it to anyone connected to the city. I didn't know what it meant! I swear, I'm just a waitress!"
Marco stepped up beside Dominic, his stern face pale with shock. "Boss... if she's Elena's daughter, she carries the primary bloodline claim to the family trusts. The council... if the council finds out she's alive, they'll launch an execution order by midnight."
Dominic’s expression hardened into a mask of lethal, dark resolve. He reached out his tattooed hand and gently, unexpectedly, touched the side of Mara's face, his thumb wiping away a stray tear.
"Nobody is executing anyone," Dominic growled, his deep voice vibrating with absolute, protective fury. "You are my blood, Mara. And under my roof, you and this child are untouchable."
Mara stared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to process the surreal words. "Your blood? I don't understand... I don't know who you are!"
"My name is Dominic Moretti," he stated calmly, his tone carrying an immovable weight. "And whether you want it or not, you are a Moretti. Your mother fled the city during a war that claimed half our family. She kept you hidden to keep you alive. But the necklace you wear is the key to our family's primary holdings."
"I don't want any money!" Mara cried out softly, holding sleeping Nico closer. "I just want my normal life! I work double shifts here, I pay my rent, I stay out of trouble!"
"Your normal life ended the second my son pulled that chain into the light," Dominic replied, his dark eyes sweeping over her pale-yellow dress. "Marco, shut down the restaurant. Tell management we are taking the entire floor."
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"Right away, boss," Marco said, pulling out his radio. "What about the council meeting scheduled for nine PM?"
"Cancel it," Dominic ordered coldly. "Or tell them if they want to speak to me, they can meet me at the estate with their weapons drawn."
