"Lock every gate, seal every exit, and cut the main grid to manual," I barked, my voice cutting through the heavy air of the ballroom like a razor.

Vincent, my chief of security, didn't hesitate. Within five seconds, heavy iron shutters slammed down over the grand glass windows, locking one hundred of New York’s most powerful elite inside my estate. Panic rippled through the room like wildfire.

"Dominic, this is insane!" Senator Vance stepped forward, his face flushed red beneath the crystal chandeliers. "You can’t hold us hostage over a child’s broken cake!"

I turned to Vance, my eyes dead and hollow. "A child didn't break a cake, Senator. A child just saved my son from a lethal dose of nerve-agent allergen. Which means someone in this room is an assassin."

Vance stepped back, speechless.

Leaving Dr. Harris to tend to Ethan, I marched toward the service hallway with Vincent close behind. We moved straight to the cold room—the industrial walk-in refrigerator where Ethan’s birthday cake had been kept under lock and key.

The heavy steel door stood slightly ajar.

"I locked this myself at four o'clock," Vincent muttered, drawing his concealed piece. "Only three people have the biometric keycard: you, me, and Sophia."

I stepped inside the freezing room. The scent of ozone and chilled silver hung thick in the air. Sitting on the pristine stainless-steel counter was a discarded fragment of foil—matching the exact silver sheen three-year-old Lily had described.