The tension in the private VIP suite of St. Catherine Medical Center was heavy enough to suffocate. Dominic Moretti’s voice, though rough and fractured from the smoke inhalation that had nearly claimed his life, carried the weight of an absolute execution order.

"You picked the wrong nurse, and the wrong child."

"Stay behind me," Dominic ordered, his voice dropping into a lethal calm as they slipped through the service door into the pediatric wing.

Inside Room 412, six-year-old Leo was awake. The little boy was sitting up in bed, his eyes wide with terror as the fake doctor approached him, holding a syringe filled with the deadly amber liquid.

"Don't worry, little guy," the assassin said, his voice a sickening mockery of a comforting medical professional. "This will help you sleep."

"Get away from him!" Grace screamed, bursting into the room before Dominic could stop her.

The assassin spun around, dropping the syringe as he reached for a concealed weapon under his lab coat. But Dominic was faster. He stepped into the room, his gun firing twice in rapid succession. The heavy thud of the silenced rounds echoed as the assassin took two bullets to the chest, collapsing backward over the medical tray.

"Leo!" Dominic called out.

The little boy’s face lit up with instant recognition. "Uncle Dom!" He scrambled out of the bed, throwing his small arms around Dominic’s waist, entirely unbothered by the blood on his uncle's clothes. "They told me you were dead!"

"I’m alive, buddy. I’ve got you," Dominic whispered, his large arms wrapping around the boy, fiercely protective.

"We have to go, now!" Grace urged, checking the hallway.

But as they stepped out of the room, they found their exit blocked.

Vanessa stood at the end of the hallway, flanked by four heavily armed Bellini soldiers. In her hand, she held a silver-plated pistol, aimed directly at Grace’s chest.

"How touching," Vanessa sneered, her eyes glittering with malice. "The mafia boss, the bastard orphan, and the heroic nurse. A perfect little tragic family. It’s a shame none of you are leaving this floor alive."

Dominic stepped in front of Grace and Leo, shielding them with his broad frame. "Vanessa. Look around you. Your men are dead, your assassin failed, and Grace has a live-stream recording of your entire conversation transmitted to a secure off-site cloud server. If I die tonight, the Bellini family is exposed to the federal task force tomorrow morning."

Vanessa laughed, a sharp, hysterical sound. "You think I care about my father’s business? If you die, Dominic, I inherit the Moretti shipping lines through our signed prenuptial agreement contract that went into effect the moment we filed our marriage license last week. I don't need my father. I will rule this city alone."

Grace’s eyes widened. She looked down at the silver ring on her own finger, then at the broken silver chain Leo was clutching. Suddenly, everything clicked. The silver chain wasn't a religious icon. It was a key.

"She’s lying, Dominic," Grace said loudly, her voice echoing down the corridor. "She doesn't have the Moretti shipping lines. The prenuptial agreement requires the signature of the Moretti family trustee. And that trustee isn't you."

Vanessa’s expression hardened. "Shut up, you pathetic bitch!"

"The trustee was your brother, Julian," Grace continued, stepping out from behind Dominic, her eyes locked on Vanessa. "And before he died, he transferred the trust to his son, Leo. That’s why you need Leo dead. If Leo is alive, he inherits everything on his seventh birthday—which is next week. Vanessa isn't trying to help her father. She’s trying to steal your family’s legacy before you find out she was the one who leaked your brother's location three years ago!"

Dominic’s head snapped toward Vanessa, his expression turning into something so terrifyingly demonic that even the armed soldiers behind Vanessa took a step back.