Chapter 2 - THE APARTMENT IN QUEENS
The snow began to fall in thick, heavy flakes as the bulletproof black SUV navigated the narrow, slush-filled streets of Astoria, Queens. Inside the back seat, Lily sat swallowed up by a plush leather captain's chair, holding a warm cup of cocoa that Paulie had run into a local bakery to buy.
Dominic sat across from her, his long legs crossed, watching the child quietly.
Every detail about her story was coming together in his mind like a dark puzzle. Elena Vance had been hired three years ago to restore damaged historical land deeds and family logs dating back to the early 1920s—documents that detailed the foundational assets of the Moretti empire. If Julian Thorne had faked her resignation using Dominic’s private digital key, it meant Elena had stumbled upon something inside those archives that she wasn't supposed to see. Something dangerous enough that Julian needed her erased from the system immediately.
"It's that building over there," Lily whispered, pressing her small nose against the tinted glass of the SUV window.
The building was a run-down, four-story brick walk-up sandwiched between a laundromat and an abandoned deli. Fire escapes clung precariously to the facade, slick with black ice. A yellow eviction notice was taped to the main glass entrance door, fluttering violently in the freezing wind.
Dominic’s eyes darkened as he read the bold red lettering on the notice: NOTICE OF IMMEDIATE VACATE – NON-PAYMENT OF RENT.
"Stay in the vehicle with Paulie," Dominic instructed Marcus as the SUV pulled to the curb.
"Boss, let me go up first to sweep the apartment," Marcus urged, reaching for his sidearm beneath his armpit holster. "If Julian used intimidation tactics, there could be enforcement guys on site."
"No," Dominic said, stepping out into the cold air. "If she sees armed men in her hallway, she’ll panic. I go alone."
He looked back at Lily, who was peering out the window at him. "Wait here with Paulie, Lily. I’m bringing your mama down."
Lily nodded obediently, holding her stuffed rabbit close to her chin.
Dominic walked into the dim, cold entryway of the apartment building. The air smelled of damp concrete, cheap bleach, and radiator rust. He climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor, his heavy leather dress shoes making no sound against the worn linoleum runner.
He stopped at Door 3B.
The brass lock was scratched, showing recent signs of forced entry or tampering. From inside the apartment, a faint, rhythmic sound drifted through the thin wood—the sound of quiet, broken weeping, accompanied by the rustle of cardboard boxes.
Dominic didn't knock. He turned the handle gently. The lock had been bypassed; the door clicked open three inches.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The apartment was small, immaculate, but heartbreakingly bare. Two half-packed cardboard boxes sat on a faded rug in the small living room. Standing near a small kitchen table covered in unpaid medical bills and utility notices was a woman.
She was twenty-eight, perhaps twenty-nine, dressed in a simple gray wool sweater and dark jeans. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose, messy knot. Her pale face was flushed red from cold and crying, but even under the strain of deep exhaustion and terror, her features possessed a striking, delicate elegance.
She froze the moment the door swung open, dropping a roll of packing tape to the floor.
"I told you I’m packing!" she gasped, her voice trembling with sheer terror as she backed away toward the kitchen counter, her hand instinctively reaching for a stainless steel chef's knife resting beside the sink. "I’m leaving! I told Mr. Thorne I wouldn't say anything to anyone! Please... just give me until tomorrow morning—"
She stopped dead in her tracks as Dominic stepped fully into the light of the single overhead bulb.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes dilated in absolute shock.
"Mr... Mr. Moretti?" she whispered, her hand freezing inches from the knife handle.
Dominic stood in the small living room, his imposing height making the tiny apartment feel even smaller. He removed his black leather gloves, folding them neatly into his coat pocket.
"Miss Vance," Dominic said, his voice deep, measured, and calm. "You are not leaving this apartment."
Elena stared at him, hyperventilating. Tears spilled over her dark eyelashes, running down her pale cheeks. "Please... I didn't steal anything. I swear to you, I didn't copy the files! I just found them by accident while I was restoring the 1948 shipping manifests! I didn't know what they meant!"
Dominic took two slow, deliberate steps into the room. He didn't offer a threatening posture; instead, he pulled off his heavy black coat and laid it carefully over the back of a wooden chair.
"What did you find, Elena?" Dominic asked softly.
Elena swallowed hard, her whole body shaking violently. "Julian... Julian Thorne came to my desk three days ago. He told me that you discovered a discrepancy in my background check. He said you personally ordered my termination, and that if I ever spoke about the ledger entries from 1948—the offshore shell company entries linked to the docks—you would make sure my daughter and I disappeared."
Dominic felt a cold, lethal fury ignite in his blood. Julian hadn't just framed him; he had used Dominic’s terrifying reputation to terrorize a helpless mother and her child.
"Julian Thorne lied to you," Dominic said, stepping closer until he was standing right across the small kitchen island from her. "I never ordered your termination. I had no knowledge of your dismissal until an hour ago."
Elena looked at him, completely bewildered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "What? Then... why are you here?"
Dominic reached into his vest pocket, pulled out his grandfather’s silver watch, and let the chain dangle briefly between his fingers before sliding it away.
"I am here," Dominic said, his eyes locking onto hers with unwavering intensity, "because a brave five-year-old girl in rubber boots managed to slip past four perimeter guards, enter my great hall in Long Island, and demand to know why I broke her mother's heart."
Elena’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. Her hands flew to her mouth. "Lily...? Oh my God... Lily?!"
"She is safe," Dominic assured her quickly, reaching out to catch her arm gently as her knees buckled under the sudden weight of relief. "She is sitting downstairs in my heated car, drinking hot chocolate with my security chief."
Elena leaned against the counter, sobbing hysterically into her hands. The terror that had gripped her for three days finally broke, releasing a wave of overwhelming, physical relief.
Dominic didn't pull away. He held her arm firmly, supporting her weight with quiet, absolute strength until her breathing slowed down.
"He threatened my baby, Mr. Moretti," Elena choked out, looking up at him through her tears. "Julian said if I went to the police or tried to contact you, he would make sure Lily was taken by Child Services... or worse."
Dominic’s expression became terrifyingly dark. The cold, calculating boss of the Moretti empire stepped forward into the dim light.
"Julian Thorne made a fatal mistake," Dominic whispered, his voice vibrating with suppressed thunder. "He used my name to threaten an innocent child. And in my house, that is a sentence from which no man recovers."
He looked around the small, empty apartment, then back at Elena’s exhausted, beautiful face.
"Pack your bags, Elena," Dominic ordered gently. "You and Lily are coming with me to Long Island. You will stay in the east wing of my home under my personal protection."
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"Mr. Moretti, I can't—" Elena began, panic rising again in her voice. "If Julian finds out I'm with you—"
"Julian Thorne works for me," Dominic interrupted, his dark eyes flashing with absolute authority. "And as long as you are under my roof, no power on this earth will touch you or your daughter again."
