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The heavy air in the kitchen hung thick with the ghosts of a life Dominic Russo had buried a year and two months ago. Standing in the doorway, his hand slowly slipped away from the Sig Sauer, his knuckles whitening against the checkered grip before he forced his fingers to uncurl. Fourteen months of silence. Fourteen months of walking through a multi-million-dollar tomb on the Long Island Sound where his daughters—his triplets, Lucia, Valentina, and Mia—existed like hollowed-out porcelain dolls. No tears, no tantrums, no laughter. Just breathing shells of children traumatized the night a sniper's bullet took Isabella. / Chapter 4 / 8

Chapter 4 - The Signature of a Ghost

Dominic stared at the phone screen, the bright light casting harsh shadows across his sharp cheekbones. The image Sal sent was a scanned PDF of an old employment contract—Elena Vance's signature on file with the Manhattan agency.

Except it wasn't her real signature. Beneath the neat cursive of Elena Vance, a microscopic watermark revealed a corporate shell company tied directly to the Lupertazzi family.

His gaze snapped up from the screen to the kitchen island. Elena was kneeling down, spooning oatmeal into Mia’s bowl while whispering a silly joke that had all three triplets giggling softly. Her movements were fluid, graceful, completely devoid of the nervous ticks of a spy caught in the act.

She's a plant. The thought slammed into his brain with the force of a physical blow. The Lupertazzis knew he was vulnerable through his kids. They sent her to get close, to infiltrate his home, to find a way to strike where he couldn't defend.

"Elena," Dominic said, his voice terrifyingly calm.

She turned, a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to Mia's mouth. "Yes?"

"Pack your things."

The kitchen instantly went dead silent. Lucia’s smile vanished, her small hands clutching the edge of her barstool. Valentina’s lower lip began to tremble.

Elena slowly stood up, her hazel eyes narrowing as she registered the rigid, lethal posture of the man before her. "What did you say?"

"You heard me," Dominic said, stepping forward, his hand drifting dangerously close to his holster. "Contract's terminated. You have ten minutes to get out of my house before I have my men throw you out onto the highway."

"Daddy, no!"

The small, desperate cry cut through the room like shattered glass. Dominic froze. Lucia was standing on her barstool, tears streaming down her pale cheeks, her little hands clenched into tiny fists.

"Don't send Elly away!" Lucia sobbed, her voice cracking with the first words she had spoken in over a year. "Please, Daddy! Don't let the bad men take her too!"

The words hit Dominic like a physical shockwave. The bad men take her too.

Elena didn't look angry; she looked heartbroken. She walked past Dominic, ignoring the gun at his side, and knelt down in front of Lucia, wiping the little girl's tears with her thumbs. "It's okay, sweetheart. Elly has to go. But I'll always remember you, okay?"

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