Dominic Vale, Chicago’s most feared mafia boss, fired me in front of his men because he saw my hands moving toward his deaf daughter

Two black Maybachs tore into the parking lot from opposite directions, their high-beams blindingly bright, instantly trapping Detective Arthur’s car and mine in a blinding crossfire of white light.

The doors flew open in unison. Six of Dominic’s elite security enforcers spilled out, weapons drawn, led by Marcus Vance.

Arthur didn't panic. He slowly raised his hands, stepping back from my car window, though a confident, knowing smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Looks like your boyfriend is very protective of his secrets, Claire."

Marcus marched straight to my driver's side door, his expression like granite. He looked past me at Arthur, then locked his cold eyes onto mine.

"Mr. Vale knows you're out here, Claire," Marcus said, his voice clipped. "Get in the second vehicle. Now."

"Marcus, I can explain—" I started.

"Save it for him," Marcus interrupted coldly. "The boss is waiting at the estate."

The drive back along Lake Shore Drive was completely silent. The heater in the SUV was cranked high, but I couldn't stop shivering. Clutched tightly in my hands was my father's old journal—the piece of evidence Arthur had just handed me, containing words that could either destroy Dominic’s world or shatter mine.

When we arrived at the Lake Michigan estate, the massive iron gates swung open automatically. The house was blazing with light.

I walked through the front doors, expecting to find Dominic raging, shouting orders, or pacing the floor like a caged predator. Instead, the grand foyer was dead silent.

Dominic was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the dark, churning lake, holding a glass of scotch. He didn't turn around when I walked in.

"You met with a cop," Dominic said, his voice dangerously quiet.

"He ambushed me, Dominic," I said, my voice steady as I walked closer, placing my father's journal on the mahogany entry table. "He brought me my father's old journal. He's trying to convince me that you killed my father."

Dominic finally turned around. His face was an unreadable mask of cold marble, but his eyes—those dark, intense eyes—were burning with a deep, suppressed fury.