Maid’s Toddler Touched the Mafia Boss’s Leg Brace—Then He Felt the Strap Was Wrong

The final test of their new life came three months later, during an exclusive charity gala hosted by the Vale Foundation at the Drake Hotel in downtown Chicago.

The event was meant to celebrate the launch of Dominic’s new medical research grant for nerve rehabilitation—a legitimate, multi-million-dollar initiative inspired by his own recovery.

The ballroom was filled with hundreds of Chicago’s highest society members, politicians, and business leaders. Clare looked breathtaking in an floor-length emerald green silk gown, her hair styled in elegant waves, standing beside Dominic as his official partner.

In the corner of the room, standing behind a velvet curtain, a disgruntled former associate of Arthur Voss named Marcus Kane watched the happy couple with bitter, bloodthirsty eyes.

Marcus pulled a small, silver-plated pistol from his inner jacket pocket. He aimed directly at Dominic’s back as Dominic turned to speak with a university dean.

"For Arthur," Marcus hissed under his breath, raising the barrel.

Before Marcus could pull the trigger, a sharp CLACK echoed behind him.

Vincent Hale stepped out from the shadows, his heavy hand coming down like an iron vice on Marcus’s wrist, snapping the man's forearm upward as a suppressed gunshot went off harmlessly into the high plaster ceiling.

Within two seconds, three elite security guards tackled Marcus to the carpet, dragging him silently out the side service exit before a single guest in the ballroom even noticed.

Vincent stepped over to Dominic, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "It's handled, Boss. The last of Voss’s men is in custody."

Dominic didn't even turn his head. He merely nodded smoothly, his arm wrapped firmly and protectively around Clare’s waist.

Clara looked up at Dominic, her hand resting over his heart. "Is everything okay?"