Chapter 4 - The Voice of the Silenced
Antonio’s cracked lips stayed parted, his chest lifting with ragged effort.
"Grace..." he whispered again, his fingers twitching against the stiff hospital sheet.
Emily moved instinctively toward the bed, forgetting the armed guards, forgetting the towering mafia don standing six inches away. She took Antonio’s cold, spotted hand between both of hers, warming it against her skin.
"I'm right here, Mr. Romano," Emily whispered, tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks. "You're safe now. Dominic is here. The doctors gave you the medicine you needed."
Antonio’s dark eyes swam with moisture. He squeezed her fingers—not with the desperate, dying grip from the mansion floor, but with the steady, conscious pressure of a man returning from the dark.
He looked up at his son.
Dominic leaned over the bed rails, his hand resting on his father’s silver hair with a reverence he had never shown to any living soul. "Pop. I'm here."
"Julian..." Antonio managed, his voice like gravel scraping against iron. "The... safe. Behind... the library... wood."
"Don't talk, Pop," Dominic said gently. "Save your strength. Marco has the tablet. We know about the Cyprus accounts. We know about the piers."
Antonio shook his head with sudden, fierce resistance. "No... not... just piers. The... contract. Julian sold... the docks... to the... Moretti family."
Dominic went rigid.
The room seemed to drop ten degrees.
The Morettis were the Romano syndicate’s blood rivals—an ultra-violent faction that had been pushed across the river to New Jersey five years ago after a bloody turf war that had cost Dominic his younger brother. If Julian Vance had sold the Brooklyn shipping lanes to the Moretti family, it meant the entire northern corridor was compromised.
It meant Victoria wasn't just stealing jewelry and writing checks to offshore accounts.
She was paving the way for an execution.
"Dominic," Marco interrupted from the doorway, his phone pressed against his ear. His expression was grim. "We have a situation at the estate."
Dominic stepped back from the bed, his demeanor instantly transforming from a grieving son into a ruthless general. "What happened?"
"Victoria is gone."
Dominic’s eyes narrowed into slits. "I told you to leave two men outside the library."
"They're alive, but unconscious," Marco said, his jaw tight with shame. "Someone used the service tunnel beneath the wine cellar. The old bootlegging passage from the twenties that was supposed to be welded shut. Julian had the master blueprint. A black SUV picked her up at the north service gate ten minutes ago. Security cameras caught the plates—it’s registered to a holding company controlled by Moretti’s logistics firm."
Dominic didn't yell. He didn't smash anything. The silence that came over him was far worse.
"They're moving faster than we thought," Dominic said, pulling his overcoat closed. "They know the digitalis failed. If my father survived the morning, Julian’s proxy vote tomorrow is dead in the water. They have to finish it tonight."
"Boss," Marco said, lowering his voice. "We need to move Antonio to the safe house in Montauk. St. Jude’s has too many access points. If Moretti brings heavy weapons—"
"No," Dominic countered. "My father’s heart cannot survive an hour-long helicopter transfer in his condition. He stays in this ICU. Bring twenty men from the Red Hook crew. Lock down the fourth floor. Nobody enters this wing without biometric clearance."
Dominic turned back to Emily.
She stood by the bed, looking terrified. Her hands rested over her belly, where the baby had begun kicking aggressively, sensing her mother's surging adrenaline.
"Where are you taking me?" Emily asked, her voice trembling. "Mr. Romano, please. If these people find out I told you about the medicine—"
"They already know," Dominic said bluntly. "Victoria saw you. She knows you blew their timeline to pieces. Right now, Julian Vance considers you the biggest loose end in New York."
He reached out and took Emily’s small, cloth purse from the chair. "You aren't going back to the staff quarters. And you aren't going to a hotel. You're coming to my personal residence at the Manhattan penthouse."
"Mr. Romano, I'm just a maid—"
"You *were* a maid," Dominic corrected, his gray eyes burning into hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. "Right now, you are the key witness to an attempted murder, and the only person on this earth my father trusts. You stay by my side until every person who touched that medication is six feet under the ground."
May you like
He turned to the guards at the door. "Bring the armored Suburban to the ambulance bay. Move Miss Carter under armed escort. If so much as a stray pebble hits that car, don't bother coming back."
***
