"I Served the Most Feared Mafia Boss a Forbidden Dish—Then He Asked a Question That Changed Everything"

"Which makes you the most dangerous witness in this city," Dominic replied, taking another slow, deliberate spoonful of the soup. "Whoever paid Victor to poison my food knows you intercepted the attempt. If you walk out those doors tonight, your body will be recovered from the Hudson River before sunrise."

My stomach plummeted. I had been so focused on saving the restaurant's reputation and honoring my grandmother's legacy that I hadn't considered the terrifying political domino effect I had just triggered.

Dominic pulled a sleek, encrypted phone from his jacket pocket and pressed a single button. "Marcus. Bring Victor Hale up to the penthouse. Quietly."

Less than five minutes later, the private elevator chimed again. Victor Hale, the suave, arrogant general manager of L’Etoile, stepped into the suite. He was holding a leather folder, trying to maintain his usual composed demeanor, but the fine sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead betrayed his absolute terror.

"Mr. Romano!" Victor laughed nervously, bowing his head slightly. "I apologize for the minor disruption downstairs. Chef Antoine had a mild heart episode, but everything is under control. I see Evelyn delivered a... makeshift meal. I’ll have her terminated immediately for violating your dietary strictures—"

"Sit," Dominic commanded quietly.

Victor froze. He looked at the bowl of red soup on the table, then at me, standing beside Dominic. His composure began to fray. "Mr. Romano, I—"

"Sit down, Victor," Dominic repeated, his voice dropping into a register that made the room’s temperature feel like sub-zero.

Victor sank into the leather dining chair across from Dominic, his hands shaking so violently he had to hide them under the table.

Dominic casually slid the sealed glass container I had brought up across the polished glass table. It stopped right in front of Victor.

"What is this?" Dominic asked gently.

"It... it looks like broth, sir," Victor stammered.

"It is broth," Dominic said. "Chef Antoine’s clear chicken stock. The stock you ordered him to cook exclusively for me tonight. Evelyn took a sample before he hit the floor. Care to take a sip?"

Victor turned gray. "Sir, I... I don't drink stock—"

"Drink it, Victor," Dominic said, his dark eyes hardening into obsidian flint. "If it's harmless, prove it to me."

"I can't!" Victor suddenly shrieked, pressing himself back into his chair. "I didn't do it! I was forced! They threatened my family!"

"Who?" Dominic asked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

"The Moretti syndicate!" Victor sobbed, tears spilling over his pale cheeks. "Salvatore Moretti offered me two million dollars! He said if I put the tasteless toxin in your broth, no one would suspect a thing until the autopsy. He promised I’d take over the restaurant empire after you were gone!"

Dominic didn't look surprised. Salvatore Moretti was his primary rival, a ruthless capo who had been trying to expand his drug trafficking operations into Dominic’s territory for years.

"And how did you know Evelyn wouldn't serve the poisoned broth?" Dominic asked.

Victor glared at me with pure hatred. "I didn't think the stupid waitress would dare step behind the stove! She ruined everything!"

Dominic slowly rose from his chair. He walked around the table until he stood directly behind Victor. He laid a heavy, hand on Victor’s trembling shoulder.

"She didn't ruin everything, Victor," Dominic whispered into the manager's ear. "She saved my life. Which means her life now belongs to me. As for yours... it belongs to the fishes."

Dominic nodded to his guards. Before Victor could scream, a heavy gloved hand clamped over his mouth, and he was dragged silently into a back room.

I stood there, frozen, my heart pounding against my ribs like a jackhammer. I had just witnessed the total destruction of a man who had belittled me for three years.