Z

Dominic read the sentence three times.

Victor knows about the baby.

Our son is not safe.

Victor Vascari was Dominic’s uncle.

His father’s younger brother.

The man who had taught Dominic how to drive before he could legally reach the pedals. The man who had stood beside him at his father’s funeral and told every captain in the Vascari organization that Dominic’s word was now law.

Victor had been family before Dominic understood what the word meant.

Dominic unfolded the rest of Mara’s letter.

His hands had become perfectly still.

That was worse than trembling.

If you are reading this because something happened to me, do not assume the accident was random.

Eight months ago, I found out I was pregnant.

I planned to tell you that night.

Before I could, someone left photographs inside my car.

You were with Celeste.

I know what those pictures looked like. I know what I believed when I saw them.

But that was not why I left.

The next photograph was of me leaving my doctor’s office.

Across the bottom someone had written:

THE VASCARI BLOODLINE HAS ENOUGH HEIRS.

YOUR CHILD DOES NOT NEED TO BECOME ONE.

Dominic stopped reading.

His chest tightened.

There were no heirs.

Not anymore.

His father had been dead eight years. Dominic was an only child. Victor had never married and had no recognized children.

Unless Mara had known something he didn’t.

He forced himself to continue.

I tried to call you.

Your phone went directly to voicemail.

I called the house.

Victor answered.

He told me you were busy.

He also told me something I had never told anyone.

He knew I was six weeks pregnant.

Dominic lowered the letter.

The NICU seemed suddenly too quiet.

Machines hummed.

His newborn son moved faintly inside the incubator.

Dominic looked through the glass doors as though Victor might already be standing on the other side.

The letter continued.

I panicked.

Maybe I should have trusted you.

Maybe I should have come home and put the photographs directly in your hands.

But I had spent three years learning how your world worked.

People did not threaten you when they could reach something you loved instead.

So I disappeared.

I used my mother’s maiden name.

I paid cash.

I changed doctors twice.

I wanted one thing.

To keep our child outside the Vascari world until I understood who wanted him gone.

Three weeks after I left, I received a message from your number.

It said:

STAY GONE. DOMINIC DOESN’T WANT THE CHILD.

I knew you well enough to think it sounded wrong.

I was hurt enough to believe it anyway.

Dominic shut his eyes.

He had never sent that message.

He remembered those weeks.

Calling Mara until her number stopped working.

Driving personally to her sister’s apartment in Connecticut.

Paying investigators who returned with nothing.

Then, two months later, receiving divorce papers.

He had signed nothing.

Neither had Mara.

The separation had remained legal limbo.

And Celeste had entered his life during that silence.

First at business dinners.

Then charity events.

Then his bed.

Dominic felt suddenly sick.

The letter had one final paragraph.

I found evidence three days ago that someone has been intercepting messages between us.

I was coming back tonight.

I was going to tell you everything.

If I did not make it, find Elena Ruiz at St. Matthew’s Women’s Clinic.

She kept copies.

And Dominic—

I never stopped loving you.

I only stopped believing loving you could keep our baby alive.

Dominic folded the letter carefully.

Then he leaned toward the incubator.

His son’s eyes remained closed.

“I’m going to fix this.”

He hated the sentence as soon as he said it.

Men like Dominic always promised to fix things after someone else had already paid the price.

Thirty minutes later he found Roman in a private conference room two floors below.

Celeste sat at the table with her arms crossed.

Her mascara had smeared beneath one eye.

Roman had recovered the burner phone’s SIM card from the wreckage.

He pushed a printed call log toward Dominic.

“Seven calls in the last four days.”

“To who?”

“Numbers registered to prepaid accounts.”

“Trace them.”

“Working on it.”

Dominic set Mara’s letter down.

Celeste saw Victor’s name.

Her reaction was instant.

She stood.

“I want a lawyer.”

Dominic looked at her.

“That is the first intelligent thing you’ve said tonight.”

“I didn’t cause that crash.”

“Did you know she was pregnant?”

Celeste said nothing.

Dominic’s jaw tightened.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t know she was thirty-two weeks.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

She looked toward Roman.

No help came.

Finally, she whispered, “I suspected.”

“How?”

Celeste’s eyes filled.

“An envelope.”

Dominic remained motionless.

“What envelope?”

“Seven months ago. At your house.”

“My house.”

“It came addressed to Mara.”

“What was inside?”

“I didn’t open it.”

He stared at her.

Celeste swallowed.

“Not completely.”

Roman exhaled through his nose.

Dominic leaned both palms on the table.

“Celeste.”

“It was an appointment reminder. Maternal-fetal medicine.”

“You saw it.”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“I gave it to Victor.”

Silence.

Dominic straightened.

“What?”

“He was there that afternoon. He saw me holding it.”

“That envelope was addressed to my wife.”

“I know.”

“You gave it to Victor.”

“I thought he already knew.”

“Why?”

“Because he said you did.”

Dominic’s expression went blank.

Celeste rushed on.

“He said Mara was trying to manipulate you. That the pregnancy might not even be yours.”

Dominic laughed once.

There was no humor in it.

“And that sounded reasonable to you?”

“You hated her.”

“I never hated Mara.”

“You said she abandoned you.”

“She did.”

His voice cracked.

“Or I thought she did.”

Celeste sat slowly.

“I was jealous.”

Dominic stared at her.

“At least that is true.”

She wiped beneath one eye.

“I wanted her gone.”

“And when you discovered she might be pregnant?”

“I wanted that gone too.”

Roman’s gaze hardened.

Celeste shook her head quickly.

“Not the baby. I mean the possibility of her coming back.”

Dominic turned away before anger made the decision for him.

His phone rang.

The number was internal hospital security.

He answered.

“Vascari.”

“Mr. Vascari, your wife is awake.”

Dominic was already walking.

Mara’s room was dim when he entered.

Her face looked even paler against the pillow.

A nasal cannula ran beneath her nose. One arm was bandaged. There were stitches near her temple.

Her eyes were open.

For one second neither spoke.

Dominic stopped at the foot of the bed.

Mara’s gaze traveled over him slowly.

Then toward the empty space beside the bed.

Her hand moved instinctively toward her abdomen.

She touched flat hospital blankets.

Panic exploded across her face.

“The baby.”

Dominic moved forward.

“He’s alive.”

She stared at him.

“He?”

“A boy.”

Her eyes filled instantly.

“Where is he?”

“NICU.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes.”

“Did they intubate him?”

“I don’t know. They have machines. They said he’s stable.”

Mara tried to sit up.

Pain folded her back.

Dominic reached for her.

She flinched.

He stopped.

That movement hurt worse than anything Celeste had confessed.

Mara looked at him.

“You weren’t supposed to know.”

His voice came quietly.

“I found your letter.”

Her face changed.

“The one in my coat?”

“Yes.”

She closed her eyes.

“So Victor knows.”

“I don’t know what Victor knows.”

“Dominic.”

“Mara.”

“He knows.”

Dominic pulled a chair closer but did not sit.

“Tell me what happened tonight.”

“I was coming to find you.”

“Why?”

“I finally found proof.”

“Of what?”

“That someone was using your organization to track me.”

She looked toward the door.

“Close it.”

Dominic did.

Mara spoke more softly.

“Three days ago, my doctor’s office called to confirm an appointment I never made.”

“And?”

“They read back the phone number used to schedule it.”

Dominic waited.

Mara looked directly at him.

“It was the private number to your uncle’s office.”

His stomach dropped.

“There’s more.”

She reached weakly toward the bedside drawer.

“The police took my purse.”

“I have your things.”

“My flash drive.”

Dominic remembered the evidence bag.

“What’s on it?”

“Payments.”

“To who?”

“A private investigator. A hospital employee. Someone at the DMV.”

She swallowed.

“All people who helped find me.”

Dominic’s voice became dangerous.

“Victor paid them?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

Mara’s eyes stayed on his.

“The payments came from an account in Celeste Arden’s name.”