Chapter 7 - The Sister He Never Knew and the Trap at the Docks
The master suite felt suffocatingly small as I held the faded Zurich clinic paperwork in my hands. The ink was slightly yellowed with age, but the official seals of the Swiss medical board were unmistakably real.
Dominic sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall opposite him with an expression I had never seen on his face before. It wasn't anger. It wasn't the cold, calculating fury he wore when dealing with traitors like Marcus. It was a profound, hollow shock—the look of a man whose entire foundation had just cracked open.
"My mother," Dominic whispered, his voice dangerously fragile. "She didn't die on the highway. My father lied."
"He didn't just lie," Leo added quietly, stepping further into the room. "We ran the birth certificate through our records database an hour ago. The baby girl was adopted by a family in Boston. But three years ago, when Marcus started digging into your father's old files, he tracked her down."
Dominic turned his dark eyes toward Leo. "Where is she?"
"Her name is Maya Vance," Leo said, his voice dropping. "She works as a pediatric nurse at St. Jude’s Hospital in downtown Boston. And according to Marcus’s notes... Marcus was planning to use her as leverage against you at the upcoming syndicate summit next weekend."
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the room.
I looked from Leo to Dominic, seeing the gears turning in the mafia boss's head—calculating, plotting, shifting from a wounded son into a protective brother with terrifying speed.
"He was going to kidnap my sister," Dominic said, the words slipping through his clenched teeth like shards of broken glass. "He was going to use her to force me to hand over the North American ports."
"Boss, you're not in any condition to travel to Boston," Leo warned immediately. "Your shoulder—"
"My shoulder will survive," Dominic interrupted, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up with a grimace. He swayed for a second, catching himself against the mattress, but his posture straightened with stubborn resolve. "Leo, prep the private jet. We leave for Boston in two hours."
"You're out of your mind," I blurted out, stepping directly into his path. "You had major tissue debridement and suture repair less than twenty-four hours ago! If you fly across the country and get into a shootout with whatever remnants of Marcus's crew are still lurking, you'll rupture your subclavian artery and bleed out before the plane hits cruising altitude!"
Dominic looked down at me, his dark gaze softening just a fraction. "Nora. Stay here. Enjoy your rent-free apartment."
"Like hell I'm staying here!" I snapped, crossing my arms. "I am your nurse, Mr. Rossi. If my patient decides to engage in an interstate rescue mission against all medical advice, my professional obligation is to follow him with a bag full of heavy-duty antibiotics and trauma gauze. Also, I want to see how a mafia boss handles a pediatric hospital."
A slow, unexpected smirk touched the corners of Dominic’s lips. He reached out, his left hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead—a gesture so entirely out of character that I froze in place.
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"You really are impossible, Nurse Nora," he murmured.
"Pack your trauma kit," Leo sighed, rubbing his temples as if developing a migraine. "I'll ready the cars."
