Z

Dominic had spent his adult life believing he knew every important secret his father had carried into the grave.

He was wrong.

At four in the morning, Roman brought him a locked steel box taken from the old wine cellar beneath the Vascari estate.

Dominic remembered seeing it once as a teenager.

His father had slapped his hand away from it.

“Some things belong to dead men,” Antonio Vascari had said.

Apparently dead men were liars too.

The key had been hidden inside a false bottom in Antonio’s desk.

Inside the box were passports, photographs, ledgers and one birth certificate.

Dominic unfolded it.

His own name was not on it.

MATTEO ANTONIO VASCARI.

Born nineteen months before Dominic.

Father: Antonio Vascari.

Mother: Sofia Bellini Vascari.

Dominic read it twice.

“My mother never had another child.”

Roman said nothing.

Dominic looked up.

“Did she?”

“I don’t know.”

But they both understood what the document suggested.

Dominic found a photograph beneath it.

His parents stood outside a hospital.

His mother was younger than Dominic remembered, smiling weakly while holding a newborn wrapped in a white blanket.

Antonio stood beside her.

On the back, in his father’s handwriting:

Matteo. May God forgive what we could not protect.

Dominic sat down.

He had a brother.

Or had.

“Find out what happened.”

Roman stepped toward the door.

“Quietly.”

“Yes.”

“And Roman?”

He turned.

“If Victor contacts you, he knows nothing.”

Roman nodded.

Dominic returned to the hospital before sunrise.

Mara was sleeping.

He stood beside her bed without touching her.

In sleep, the lines of fear disappeared from her face.

For one dangerous moment, she looked exactly as she had on their honeymoon in Lake Como.

Before weapons.

Before betrayals.

Before Dominic understood that a man could own half a city and still fail to protect one person.

A nurse entered quietly.

“Mr. Vascari?”

He stepped into the hall.

“Your son is stable enough for both parents to visit.”

Both parents.

Dominic woke Mara.

Twenty minutes later, a nurse rolled her wheelchair beside the incubator.

Mara saw her child for the first time.

She covered her mouth.

“Oh my God.”

Dominic stood behind her.

Mara reached through the opening.

The baby moved.

His tiny hand curled around her finger.

She began crying silently.

Dominic looked away.

Some moments deserved privacy even when shared.

“He has your eyebrows,” Mara whispered.

Dominic almost laughed.

“He doesn’t have eyebrows.”

“Yes, he does.”

“They’re barely visible.”

“They’re judgmental.”

That made him laugh.

A small sound.

Mara looked up.

For the first time since the crash, something passed between them that was not pain.

Then the NICU doors opened.

Victor Vascari walked in carrying flowers.

Dominic’s entire body went cold.

“Beautiful sight,” Victor said.

He wore a charcoal suit and the same silver watch he had worn for twenty years.

At sixty-one, Victor remained handsome in the severe Vascari way.

Dark eyes.

Silver hair.

The smile of a man who considered every room partly his.

Mara stiffened.

Dominic stepped between Victor and the incubator.

“How did you get in here?”

Victor’s smile remained.

“The Vascari name still opens doors.”

“Not this one.”

Victor glanced past him.

“Mara.”

She said nothing.

“I was relieved to hear you survived.”

Dominic watched Mara’s face.

Fear appeared immediately.

Victor noticed.

Of course he noticed.

“What?” he asked gently.

Mara’s eyes dropped toward Victor’s right hand.

A heavy gold ring circled his smallest finger.

Black stone.

Silver crest.

Her breathing changed.

Dominic followed her gaze.

He had seen that ring thousands of times.

“Mara?”

She looked at Dominic.

“The man who followed me in Boston.”

Victor’s smile disappeared.

“What man?”

“He wore that ring.”

Dominic turned slowly.

Victor laughed.

“Half the old families wear signet rings.”

“Not that one,” Mara whispered.

Victor’s eyes sharpened.

For the first time, something ugly showed beneath the concern.

Dominic saw it.

Roman appeared behind Victor.

Victor glanced over his shoulder.

“Am I being guarded now?”

“Yes.”

The word came from Dominic.

Victor studied his nephew.

“You should sleep.”

“You should answer questions.”

“Not beside a premature infant.”

Dominic stepped closer.

“Then we’ll go somewhere else.”

Victor’s gaze moved toward the incubator.

The baby shifted beneath his blanket.

Victor looked at him for too long.

Dominic moved directly into his line of sight.

“Do not look at my son.”

Victor’s eyebrows lifted.

“You think I’d hurt family?”

Mara made a sound.

Almost a laugh.

Victor looked toward her.

Bad decision.

Dominic grabbed his uncle by the lapel and drove him backward into the wall.

Nurses shouted.

Roman closed the unit doors.

Victor did not struggle.

He looked almost pleased.

“There he is,” he murmured.

“Who?”

“Antonio’s son.”

Dominic shoved him harder.

“What happened to Matteo?”

Victor’s face changed.

Only a fraction.

Enough.

Dominic felt his own heartbeat slow.

“You know that name.”

Victor said nothing.

“My brother.”

“You never had a brother.”

“I found the birth certificate.”

Mara stared.

Victor closed his eyes.

Then smiled faintly.

“Antonio should have burned that box.”

Dominic released him.

Roman stepped closer.

“Talk.”

Victor straightened his suit.

“Your brother lived eleven days.”

“How did he die?”

“Complications.”

“Lie again.”

Victor looked at Mara.

“You see what she does to you?”

Dominic stepped into his path.

“Do not speak to her.”

Victor sighed.

“Matteo was born into an agreement older than either of us.”

“What agreement?”

“A merger.”

“Between who?”

“The Vascari and Bellini families.”

Dominic remembered his mother’s maiden name.

Victor continued.

“Your mother’s family controlled ports. Ours controlled distribution. Marriage combined them.”

“So?”

“So Matteo inherited both.”

Dominic frowned.

“Then why kill him?”

Victor’s mouth tightened.

“Because power concentrated in one bloodline makes everyone else afraid.”

Mara whispered, “Sarto.”

Victor looked at her sharply.

Dominic saw confirmation.

“The Tailors,” Dominic said.

Victor laughed softly.

“You’ve been talking to Celeste.”

“What happened to Matteo?”

Victor looked at him.

“Your father was told the child had to disappear.”

“And he agreed?”

“No.”

For the first time, Victor sounded almost respectful.

“Antonio refused.”

“What happened?”

“Someone entered the nursery on the eleventh night.”

Mara’s hand covered her mouth.

Dominic felt sick.

Victor continued.

“Your father killed the man. But he was too late.”

Dominic looked toward his own son.

Machines breathed softly beside the incubator.

“And me?”

“You were born nineteen months later.”

“They came again?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Victor’s eyes hardened.

“Because your father made a deal.”

Dominic waited.

“He promised the combined Vascari-Bellini empire would die with you.”

Dominic understood.

“No children.”

Victor nodded.

“Your father accepted that condition to keep you alive.”

Mara whispered, “And Dominic’s son breaks the deal.”

Victor looked at the infant.

“Yes.”

Dominic moved between them again.

Victor exhaled.

“You think I created this?”

“You tracked Mara.”

“I tried to find her before they did.”

“You knew she was pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“And you said nothing.”

“Because the minute you knew, you would do exactly what you are doing now.”

“What?”

“Choose them over everything.”

Dominic looked at Mara.

At his son.

Then back at Victor.

“There is no choice.”

Victor’s expression became almost sad.

“That is what your father said.”

His phone vibrated.

Victor looked down.

Dominic saw the message preview.

No name.

Just one sentence.

YOU HAVE UNTIL NOON TO FIX THIS.

Victor locked the screen.

Too late.

Dominic had already read it.

He leaned closer.

“Tell Sarto noon is canceled.”

Victor stared at him.

Dominic’s voice lowered.

“And tell him if he wants my son, he can come through me.”