Chapter 4 - THEY TOOK THE WRONG THING FROM ME
I woke on the floor.
That was the first thing I understood.
Not the time.
Not the screaming.
Not Marco shouting into his radio.
The marble floor beneath my cheek.
My body had convulsed hard enough to throw me from the bed.
Dr. Harris was kneeling beside me.
I had no memory of him arriving.
“Elena?” I gasped.
No answer.
“Lily?”
Marco looked at me.
I knew before he spoke.
The bedroom doors stood open.
Two guards were gone.
The hallway beyond them flashed red from the security alarm.
“Elena and Lily aren’t in the safe room.”
Cold terror cut through the chemical fog in my brain.
“What?”
“The service elevator moved during the alarm.”
I tried to stand.
My legs folded.
Dr. Harris caught me.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
I shoved him.
It accomplished almost nothing.
“Get off me.”
“You can barely breathe.”
“My daughter is missing.”
“And you’re going to be dead if you—”
I grabbed his collar.
The room tilted.
“Then keep me alive while I find her.”
Marco stepped between us.
“Dominic.”
I looked at him.
His face told me something worse was coming.
“What?”
“We found Elena’s phone in the laundry corridor.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
That mattered.
Alive.
Possibly.
“Vehicles?”
“One black Escalade left through the delivery gate four minutes ago.”
“Whose authorization?”
Marco hesitated.
“Vincent.”
Everything stopped.
Vincent Caruso.
My consigliere.
The man who had sat beside my father’s coffin.
The man who had carried me into a private clinic after I was shot at twenty-six.
The man who knew every account, every safe house, every judge, every weakness.
“No.”
Marco said nothing.
“You checked?”
“His code opened the gate.”
“Where is he?”
“Missing.”
I closed my eyes.
That hurt worse than Vanessa.
Vanessa was love contaminated by ambition.
Vincent was family without blood.
“Find him.”
“I already have every crew looking.”
“No police.”
Marco nodded.
Then Dr. Harris said, “You need a hospital.”
“No.”
“Dominic.”
“If they took Lily because of me, I am not disappearing into a hospital while someone negotiates with my child.”
My phone rang.
Everyone looked at it.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
Marco reached for it.
I stopped him.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
Vanessa’s voice filled the room.
“You look terrible when you’re angry.”
I stared toward the ceiling camera.
Of course.
“You’re watching.”
“I was.”
“Where is Lily?”
A pause.
Then Vanessa laughed softly.
“The little maid’s daughter?”
“My daughter.”
The silence on the other end lasted two seconds.
“So Elena finally admitted it.”
“Where is she?”
“Interesting how quickly you’ve become paternal.”
I felt rage move through me with enough force to steady my hands.
“If Lily has one scratch—”
“You’ll what?”
Her voice sharpened.
“You can’t stand without help.”
I said nothing.
Vanessa continued.
“You built an empire around fear, Dominic. Do you know how disappointing it was to discover you could be reduced to a trembling man beneath blankets?”
Marco watched me.
I kept my voice flat.
“You poisoned me.”
“I helped you become vulnerable.”
“Same thing.”
“Words matter.”
“Not where you’re going.”
She laughed again.
That laugh erased every memory of the woman I thought I knew.
The first dinner.
The proposal in Rome.
Her asleep against my shoulder on a flight home.
Had any of it been real?
“Vincent is with you,” I said.
No answer.
That was an answer.
“He planned it.”
Vanessa sighed.
“Vincent understands that empires should not be inherited by accident.”
My eyes moved toward the photographs of Lily.
There it was.
Succession.
“You were supposed to marry me.”
“Yes.”
“Then I die.”
“Eventually.”
“And you inherit.”
“You’re smarter with a fever than most men are healthy.”
Marco mouthed a curse.
I held up one finger.
Keep her talking.
“What changed?”
“The child.”
My chest tightened.
“Lily created complications.”
“If you wanted DNA, you could have asked.”
“She was never supposed to reach this house.”
I looked at Elena’s empty chair.
“How long have you known?”
“Long enough.”
“You had them followed before Elena worked here.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent found an old photograph in one of your storage boxes.”
My mind went back years.
Elena at the diner.
Maybe I had kept something without remembering.
Vanessa’s voice softened.
“You never really forgot her, did you?”
Jealousy.
Not motive.
But part of it.
“You’re going to release them.”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
“At sunrise, Marco will receive documents transferring temporary control of Romano Capital and the organization’s legitimate holdings to Vincent under emergency incapacity provisions.”
Marco shook his head violently.
I understood.
Those documents existed.
Vincent knew that.
“If I sign?”
“Elena and Lily live.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Don’t make me say something unpleasant.”
My hand shook.
Not from poison this time.
“You already made one mistake.”
“What?”
“You let Lily know your voice.”
Vanessa went quiet.
“Children remember things.”
“She won’t matter when you’re gone.”
That sentence killed the last piece of mercy in me.
The call ended.
Marco immediately began tracing.
I looked at him.
“Tell me we got something.”
“Burner. But the signal bounced off a tower west of the river.”
“Which properties does Vincent control?”
“Six.”
“Which one has medical equipment?”
Marco’s head turned.
He understood before I finished.
“Cicero clinic.”
Five years earlier, Vincent had purchased a private rehabilitation center through a shell company.
Basement treatment rooms.
Secure parking.
Limited staff.
Perfect place to keep hostages.
“Get the cars.”
Dr. Harris stepped in front of me.
“No.”
I looked at him.
He did not move.
“You walk out that door, you may collapse before you reach the elevator.”
“Then put me in a wheelchair.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not laughing.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then he looked at Marco.
“If he goes, I go.”
“Fine.”
“I need oxygen, fluids, medication, and a vehicle where I can treat him.”
“Take whatever you need.”
Twenty minutes later, I was in the back of an armored SUV with medical tubing beneath my coat.
Chicago at three in the morning moved past the window in wet streaks of yellow light.
I had spent my adult life believing fear made a man weak.
I had been wrong.
Fear for yourself was weakness.
Fear for someone you loved was fuel.
And I had known Lily was my daughter for less than three hours.
Yet I would have burned down every building I owned to hear her insult my appearance again.
Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“We found Vincent’s car.”
“Where?”
“Outside the clinic.”
“Lily?”
“No visual.”
“Elena?”
He swallowed.
“We found her coat in the parking lot.”
May you like
My hands curled into fists.
Then Marco added, “There’s blood on it.”
