The silence that settled over Room 412 was heavier than the smell of antiseptic and ozone.

The rain outside Lennox Hill Hospital had turned into a torrential downpour, washing over the neon signs of Manhattan. Inside the penthouse suite of the pediatric wing—which Damian had forcibly cleared and occupied—the atmosphere was suffocating.

Ten of Damian's most trusted soldiers guarded the floor. Yet, Damian sat in a leather chair beside Leo’s bed, his hand resting on a loaded Beretta in his lap. He hadn't slept in twenty-four hours.

"He's stable, Boss," Elias said, entering the room quietly. "The doctors say the heart murmur is under control. The fluid in his lungs was an allergic reaction to a new medication his nanny gave him yesterday morning. It wasn't a natural collapse. Someone poisoned him at home first."

Damian’s jaw tightened until the bone threatened to crack. "Mrs. Higgins?"

"We've already brought her in for interrogation. She's terrified, swearing she only gave him his usual vitamins. But we found a secondary bottle in her cabinet. Substituted. Someone swapped his pills." Damian felt a cold, murderous rage blooming in his chest. "But that's not the biggest problem, Boss."

Elias handed Damian a folder. "We ran the facial recognition from the hospital cameras on 'Elena.' We found a match. Her real name isn't Elena. It's Elena Petrova. She’s the younger sister of Sofia."

Damian froze. The name Sofia felt like a ghost clawing its way out of his throat.

Sofia. His late wife. The woman who had died in a tragic car bombing three years ago—an attack meant for Damian. Sofia, whose death had prompted him to try and clean up the Costa family name so Leo wouldn't grow up in the bloodbath.

"Sofia's sister?" Damian whispered. "Sofia told me her entire family died in Russia before she fled to the States."

"She lied to you, Boss," Elias said gently. "Or she was protecting her. Elena Petrova entered the country six months ago under a fake passport. She’s been working off the books, cleaning hospitals, staying under the radar. And get this—she was in the hospital room tonight before Leo was even admitted. She’s been tracking him."

Damian stood up, his towering figure casting a long shadow across the room. "She was monitoring my son. Why? Is she working with the people who killed Sofia? Or is she the one who swapped Leo's medicine?"

"There's only one way to find out," Elias said. "We tracked her cell signal. She didn't go far. She's hiding in a motel near the Queensboro Bridge. Do you want me to send a team to bring her in?"

"No," Damian said, pulling his coat on. "I'll handle this myself. Keep three men on Leo. If anyone so much as breathes near his door without my written permission, kill them."

"Understood, Boss."

Thirty minutes later, the black armored SUV pulled up outside the neon-lit, decaying facade of the Riverview Motel. The rain beat a relentless rhythm against the windshield. Damian stepped out into the storm, his coat billowing behind him. He didn't want a scene. He didn't want a bloodbath. He wanted answers.

He bypassed the front desk, walking up the exterior concrete stairs to Room 14. He didn't knock. He took out a slim lockpick, slipped it into the cheap deadbolt, and within three seconds, the door clicked open.

The room smelled of damp carpets and cheap lavender soap.

Damian stepped inside, closing the door silently behind him. The room was dark, illuminated only by the intermittent flash of a faulty streetlamp outside.

"Don't move," a soft, trembling voice said from the shadows.

Damian smiled a cold, humorless smile. He felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press against the back of his neck.

"You're fast, Elena. Or should I call you Petrova?" Damian said, remaining perfectly still.

He heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. The gun trembled slightly against his skin. "You know who I am."

"I know you lied to me. I know you are Sofia's sister. And I know my wife told me her family was dead." Damian turned around slowly, ignoring the weapon. He stared down at her. She had bandaged her temple, but she looked exhausted, her gray eyes wide with fear and anger. "Why are you here, Elena? Did you poison my son?"

"Poison him?!" she gasped, her eyes flashing with genuine outrage. "I saved his life! If I wanted him dead, I would have let that fake doctor inject him!"

"Then why were you there? Why were you working under a fake name, cleaning floors in a hospital where my son just happened to be brought?"

"Because I knew they were coming for him!" Elena cried out, her voice breaking. She lowered the gun, her shoulders slumping. "I came to this country to find Sofia. I didn't know she was dead until I arrived. I started digging. I found out who she married. I found out about the bombing. And I found out that the people who killed her... they aren't done."

Damian took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. "Who killed her?"

"The Bratva," Elena whispered. "My family's old enemies. Sofia fled them, but they found her. And now, they want the boy. They want Leo. Because of the inheritance Sofia left him—the secret offshore trust accounts her father set up before the Bratva wiped our family out. Sofia faked her death to escape them, Damian."

The world seemed to stop spinning.

Damian stared at her, his voice barely a whisper. "What did you just say?"

"Sofia isn't dead," Elena said, tears finally spilling over her cheeks. "She faked the car bombing. She abandoned you and Leo to save her own skin. And now, she's working with the Bratva to get her hands on the money. And Leo is the key to unlocking it."