I was serving dinner when the mafia boss’s silent daughter smelled my perfume, began sobbing, and reached for me like she had been waiting two years to find me.

The quiet in the room became absolute.

Salvatore Moretti didn't flinch. He didn't gasp. He didn't draw a gun. Instead, a slow, cold, yellowed smile spread across his aged face, revealing decades of ruthless survival in an industry of wolves.

He leaned heavily on his silver cane, looking directly at Elena.

"Ah," Salvatore murmured softly. "Rosa’s little girl. You have your mother’s nose, my dear. A shame about her heart. A real shame."

Elena felt a wave of absolute revulsion wash over her. The man standing ten feet away had ordered her mother to steal her infant, had forced her to suffer two years of unimaginable agony, and was now looking at her like a nuisance he had forgotten to sweep off his floor.

"You monster," Elena spat out, her voice trembling with pure hatred. "You stole my baby!"

Salvatore let out a soft, mocking sigh, turning his attention back to Damian. "I see Dr. Vance has been talking. I assume the good doctor is currently feeding the fish in the East River?"

"He died screaming, Sal," Damian said, his hands resting loosely on his hips, inches from his concealed firearm. "Just like you’re going to."

"Don't be foolish, Damian!" Salvatore snapped, his smile vanishing as his voice filled the room like thunder. "Look around you! Who built you? Who gave you the South Brooklyn docks? Who gave you my daughter Julianna? You were a half-breed orphan running street crews in Red Hook until I pulled you into the Commission!"

"I built my empire with my own hands, Salvatore," Damian snarled.

"You built it under my name!" Salvatore countered, taking a aggressive step toward the table. "Julianna was weak! She couldn't give you an heir! If the other families found out the Caruso line was broken, your territory would have been carved up like a Sunday roast! I saved your reputation! I gave you a child to hold your house together!"

"You gave me a stolen baby!" Damian roared, slamming his fist onto the mahogany table with enough force to rattle the crystal glasses. "You forced this woman to mourn her living child! You lied to me every single day for two years while I kissed your ring!"

Salvatore looked at Sofia, who was crying softly, her small arms wrapped tight around Elena’s waist.

"The child has Caruso money and Moretti prestige," Salvatore said coldly. "She lives in a mansion. She wears silk. She has the best doctors in the country. What could a thirty-dollar-an-hour waitress give her? Poverty? A cramped apartment in Queens?"

"She can give her a mother!" Elena yelled, standing up, shielding Sofia with her entire body. "Something a sociopath like you could never understand!"

Salvatore’s blue eyes turned to ice as he looked at Elena. "You should have stayed at your diner, girl. Your mother was smart enough to know when to keep her mouth shut. You, on the other hand..."