THE MAFIA BOSS NEVER HAD CHILDREN — UNTIL A POOR LITTLE GIRL SAID, “YOU’RE MY DAD.”

A secret in the mafia is like blood in the water; eventually, the sharks will smell it.

For three weeks, Isabella lived cloistered within the fortress of the Moretti estate. Dominic transformed the cold, echoing mansion into a sanctuary. The guest room was painted a soft lavender; the library was suddenly stocked with children's books; the heavily armed guards patrolling the grounds learned to hide their weapons beneath tailored coats when she was near.

Dominic was learning how to be a father. It was a clumsy, terrifying process. He learned that Isabella liked her toast cut into triangles, that she was afraid of the dark unless the hallway light was left on, and that she possessed a stubborn streak that mirrored his own. But while Dominic learned the rhythms of his daughter, the underworld was learning about her existence.

It started as a whisper. A rumor traded in back rooms of cigar lounges and underground casinos. Moretti has a weak spot. A kid.

Dominic sat at the head of the long mahogany table in his underground war room, surrounded by his five capos. The air was thick with smoke and tension.

"It's the Romanos," said Silvio, a broad-shouldered captain who controlled the docks. "They're pressing our southern territory. Sal Romano has been asking questions about the increased security at the estate. He knows something shifted."

Dominic’s eyes were like chips of flint. "If Romano steps one inch into my territory, cut off his foot. If he asks about my family, cut out his tongue."

"Boss," Marco interjected quietly from the corner. "With all due respect, going to war right now... it draws more attention to the girl. If they know she exists, she becomes a target. Leverage."

"She is not leverage," Dominic snarled, slamming his fist onto the table, the wood cracking under the force. The room went dead silent. "She is a Moretti. Anyone who breathes her name with malicious intent will drown in their own blood. Increase the perimeter guards. No one enters or leaves without my personal authorization."

The meeting dismissed, but the heavy dread settled in Dominic's chest. He had spent his life building walls to keep enemies out, but he had never had something so precious hidden inside.

That night, as he read Isabella a story about a dragon, she looked up at him. "Why do the men outside always look angry, Daddy?"

Dominic paused, closing the book. "They aren't angry, piccola. They are just very careful. They are making sure the dragons stay away."