My Maid’s Son Dropped a Ring With My Family Crest and Initials—Then His Mother Said I Gave It to Her Eight Years Ago.

Dominic stepped back into the study, pulling the bedroom door half-shut to protect Noah from the commotion.

Mateo was standing in the center of the room. He wasn't alone.

Two guards were dragging an older man in his late fifties. The man had graying hair, a scarred face, and walked with a pronounced limp in his right leg. His hands were bound tightly behind his back with heavy plastic ties.

Anna stepped out of the bedroom and gasped. "Leo."

The former driver looked up, his eyes bloodshot, his face pale with shame. He looked at Dominic, then looked down at the floor, unable to meet his boss’s gaze.

"You survived the fire," Dominic said, his voice deadly calm. "And you’ve been living on my estate for three years."

"Mr. Ferraro..." Leo whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "I’m sorry. God forgive me, I’m so sorry."

"Why didn't you come to me, Leo?" Dominic asked, taking two slow steps toward him. "You drove my father. You drove me for fifteen years. I treated you like family."

"She had my daughter," Leo cried out, his voice cracking into a sob. He gestured with his chin toward Vivienne, who was cowering in the armchair. "Vivienne found my daughter in Boston. She said if I ever showed my face to you, she would have Detroit take my girl. She kept me locked in that cottage, doing maintenance, keeping my mouth shut!"

Dominic turned his cold glare toward Vivienne. "What did Leo do for you, Vivienne?"

"He didn't just drive," Anna suddenly interjected, stepping forward.

Dominic looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"The night of the fire," Anna said, her eyes fixed on Leo. "When Leo took the envelope from me at the apartment, he dropped his key ring. On that key ring was an antique brass key with a triangular notch. I remember it because I picked it up and handed it back to him."

Leo froze. His jaw trembled.

Dominic turned his gaze back to Leo. "The triangular key. That belongs to the private vault at the First National Bank of Chicago. The safe deposit box my father left me."

"She made me take it, Boss," Leo sobbed, tears streaming down his weathered cheeks. "The day after the fire, while you were in a coma in Geneva, Vivienne took the key. She cleaned out Box 412."

Dominic’s eyes widened slightly.

Box 412 did not contain money. It did not contain bearer bonds or gold bullion.

Box 412 contained his father’s personal journal, detailing the hidden agreements, the true bloodlines, and the Council’s founding charters from forty years ago.

Dominic walked over to Vivienne. He grabbed the armrest of her chair and leaned down until his face was inches from hers.

"Where is my father's journal, Vivienne?"

Vivienne looked up at him, a sudden, twisted smile creeping across her swollen lips. Even backed into a corner, she had one last card to play.

"You think you’ve won, Dominic?" she whispered, her voice trembling with manic spite. "You think having your little bastard back fixes everything? That journal isn't in this house."