Chapter 1 - The Blood on the Cream Handbag
The silence in the sterile hospital corridor felt heavier than a loaded firearm.
Celeste Arden’s mouth remained slightly parted, her breath catching in her throat as Dominic’s dark, unyielding gaze pinned her against the cold tile wall.
"My driver didn't call you, Celeste," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a register so dangerously low it sent an icy chill down her spine. "My driver was knocked unconscious in the intersection when the black SUV rammed Mara’s taxi. His phone was destroyed on impact. So I'll ask you one more time... how did you know where I was tonight?"
Celeste swallowed hard, her manicured fingers tightening imperceptibly around the strap of her designer cream leather handbag. "Dominic, you're in shock. You aren't thinking clearly. Mara walked out on you eight months ago. She hid in some wretched little apartment across town, and now she gets into a car accident and—"
"Give me the bag," Dominic commanded.
He didn't yell. Dominic Vascari never needed to raise his voice to strike terror into the hearts of men who ruled Chicago's underworld. At thirty-eight, he was the undisputed kingpin of the Vascari syndicate—a tall, broad-shouldered man with ink-black hair, razor-sharp jawline, and eyes like polished slate.
Celeste took a step back, pressing her back against the glass doors of Trauma Room Four. "Dominic, this is absurd! I came here because I care about you! I was at the restaurant waiting for you—"
Dominic didn't wait. He stepped forward, his massive hand closing around the strap of the cream handbag. He yanked it from her wrist with enough force to snap the golden clasp.
"Dominic!" Celeste shrieked, her face turning pale as paper.
Dominic unzipped the bag and turned it upside down. A gold lipstick, a compact mirror, a sleek black smartphone, and a small, silver burner phone tumbled out onto the gleaming hospital floor.
The burner phone was still unlocked. The screen glowed bright blue in the harsh fluorescent light.
Dominic knelt slowly, his long, leather-gloved fingers picking up the burner phone.
On the screen was an open text message thread from an unregistered number sent forty-five minutes ago:
TARGET HAS LEFT THE CLINIC. TAXI PLATE #4421. MAKE IT LOOK LIKE AN ACCIDENT BEFORE SHE REACHES DOWNTOWN.
Below it, a reply sent from Celeste’s burner phone thirty minutes ago:
DO IT NOW. DOMINIC CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT THE CHILD.
Dominic felt the air go completely out of his lungs. The world around him faded into a dull, roaring red.
For eight months, he had believed Mara left him because she no longer loved him. He had believed she grew tired of the violence, the bodyguards, the shadow of his criminal empire. When she packed her bags and vanished into the rain eight months ago, leaving her platinum wedding band on his nightstand, it had ripped his heart out. He had allowed Celeste—the daughter of a rival syndicate lieutenant—into his life to fill the hollow, agonizing void Mara left behind.
And all this time, Mara hadn't been running from him.
She had been running to protect their unborn child.
Dominic stood up slowly. His slate-gray eyes fixed on Celeste with an expression of pure, unadulterated devastation and lethal fury.
"You ordered the hit," Dominic whispered, the words dripping with dark, terrifying murder. "You tried to kill my wife. You tried to kill my child."
"Dominic, listen to me!" Celeste cried out, her composure breaking into frantic, desperate tears. She reached out, grasping at his lapels. "She was going to ruin everything! You were finally moving on! You were going to merge the Vascari and Arden territories through us! She is a nobody! A simple florist’s daughter who didn't belong in our world! If she gave you an heir, you would have taken her back! I did this for us!"
Dominic grabbed Celeste by her throat, pushing her hard against the wall. His fingers tightened just enough to cut off her breath, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently along his cheek.
"There is no 'us'," Dominic growled into her ear, his breath hot and dangerous. "There was only ever Mara. And if my child or my wife dies tonight... I will personally tear down every brick of the Arden empire, and I will feed your father to the dogs in the alley."
He released her abruptly. Celeste fell to her knees on the floor, gasping for air, clutching her bruised throat as she sobbed hysterically.
Dominic didn't look back. He turned toward his chief security officer, Mateo, who was rushing down the hallway with four heavily armed Vascari enforcers trailing behind him.
"Boss!" Mateo panted, his hand resting on the holster beneath his suit jacket. "The hospital is secure. We placed guards at every entrance."
Dominic shoved the burner phone into Mateo’s chest. "Take Celeste Arden. Lock her in the basement cellar at the estate. If her father calls, tell him his daughter just declared war on the Vascari family."
Mateo’s eyes widened as he glanced at the phone screen, then at Celeste weeping on the floor. "Understood, Boss. What about the hitmen who rammed the taxi?"
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Dominic’s eyes turned to cold, liquid ice. "Find them. Bring them to the warehouse on 4th Street. I'll deal with them after my son is born."
He turned back toward the double doors of the Operating Room, where red emergency lights were flashing, leaving a trail of blood and shattered lives behind him.
