Chapter 4
The cinematic, bright sunlight reflecting off the shattered crystal and spilled water created a scene of beautiful, absolute destruction. Domenico stood in the center of the wreckage, holding his daughter in one arm and the torn stuffed dinosaur in the other. He adjusted the cuffs of his crisp dress shirt, radiating a deeply masculine, terrifying authority that demanded total submission.
He looked down at the tiny, blinking camera still safely nestled in the palm of his hand.
Slowly, deliberately, Domenico raised his head. His cold, intimidating eyes swept from Adrian, who was bleeding on the floor near the drinks console, to Genevieve, who was weeping quietly among the ruined flowers.
"You hit my daughter," Domenico said. He spoke slowly, with controlled pauses between his words. His deep, slightly raspy American accent was kept at a low volume, yet it resonated with an absolute lethality that sent shivers down the spines of the watching capos. "Because you were afraid of what her toy recorded."
Adrian pushed himself up onto his elbows, spitting blood from a cut lip. His face became overwhelmingly, intensely frightened as the true weight of Domenico’s realization crushed him.
"Domenico, listen to me," Adrian stammered, holding a trembling hand up. "It's a misunderstanding. We were... we were running a security audit on the estate. We placed the camera in the toy to ensure the nannies weren't neglecting her."
"Do not insult my intelligence, Adrian," Domenico whispered softly, taking a single, measured step toward his cousin. "A security audit is conducted by my men. A camera hidden inside my child’s favorite toy, planted by a capo, is espionage."
"We are family!" Genevieve cried out, untangling herself from a broken floral branch. "We share the same blood, Domenico! You are overreacting!"
"Am I?" Domenico asked, his sharp jawline ticking.
He handed Lily gently to his lead bodyguard, a towering man named Silas. "Take her to my private suite. Lock the door. Do not let anyone inside."
"Yes, Boss," Silas nodded, turning and carrying the shivering child out of the bright, sunlit reception hall.
Once his daughter was safely out of the room, the protective father vanished entirely. The veteran Mafia Don stepped forward, towering over his aunt and cousin.
"You placed a surveillance device inside the one item my daughter carries into my private office," Domenico deduced, his brilliant, tactical mind assembling the pieces with terrifying speed. "You used a three-year-old child as a Trojan horse to record my closed-door meetings. To record the offshore routing numbers. To record the identities of the judges I have on payroll."
"It's a lie!" Genevieve shrieked, panic entirely stripping away her aristocratic facade. "We would never do that!"
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Domenico did not argue. He simply held up the camera and looked at his technical specialist, a quiet man standing near the edge of the crowd.
"Pull the feed," Domenico commanded. "Right now."
