"The mafia boss ordered his men to silence his screaming newborn, but when a waitress finally took the baby into her arms, he heard her whisper a name that made his blood run cold.

By 3:00 AM, the mansion was dead silent.

Sophie sat in a plush velvet armchair beside the crib, wrapped in a silk robe Dominic’s staff had provided. She hadn't been able to sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her own son's face, merging with little Julian’s.

The heavy oak door creaked open.

Dominic stepped inside. He had stripped off his suit jacket and tie. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms covered in dark, intricate tattoos. He looked less like a mafia Don and more like a man carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“He’s sleeping,” Sophie whispered.

Dominic walked over and sat down on the leather ottoman across from her. He looked exhausted.

“I checked your background,” Dominic said quietly.

Sophie stiffened. “And?”

“Leo Lane. Born four years ago with severe hypoplastic left heart syndrome. He survived eight months.” Dominic looked down at his calloused hands. “You quit nursing school two weeks after he passed. You cut off all your friends. You hid yourself in that restaurant.”

Tears sprang to Sophie’s eyes, hot and sharp. “Is that a crime?”

“No,” Dominic said, his voice unusually gentle. “It’s a tragedy. I thought you were sent by my enemies, Sophie. I thought you were a trap. But you’re just someone who knows what it feels like to lose everything.”