Chapter 3 - The Secret in the DeskFor three weeks, my world was bounded by the luxurious mahogany walls of the master suite at the Westchester estate.
Under the care of top private trauma surgeons and the endless affection of Isabella, my body began the slow, agonizing process of healing. Four of the seven lead fragments were successfully removed during secondary procedures, while physical therapy allowed me to stand and walk short distances across the sunlit terrace.
Dominic was unlike any man I had ever known.
The terrifying crime boss who made New York's elite tremble became a quiet, fiercely protective presence in my life. He was home every afternoon by five o'clock, sitting beside my bed while I ate, listening quietly as I talked about my mother’s treatment in Cleveland, and personally carrying me out to the garden bench whenever I wanted fresh air.
Slowly, against every survival instinct I possessed, I began to fall in love with my dark, dangerous husband.
Until the afternoon I went looking for a pen.
It was a rainy Tuesday in late November. Dominic was in Manhattan attending an emergency council meeting, and I was walking slowly through his private ground-floor study, looking for a notebook to write a letter to my mother’s doctor in Cleveland.
Behind his broad mahogany desk sat a small steel fireproof safe that had been left half-an-inch ajar.
I stepped closer, my curious eyes catching sight of a thick, worn leather folder resting inside.
Printed across the tab in bold, black ink was my maiden name:
SIENNA VANCE — PERSONAL & FORENSIC DOSSIER
My hand trembled as I pulled the folder from the safe, laying it flat onto the mahogany desk, opening the thick parchment pages.
Inside were receipts spanning three years—receipts showing that every single cent of my mother Ellen's heart treatment bills at the Cleveland Clinic had been paid in full by a private trust fund registered under the name Rossi Logistics LLC.
There were photographs of me working at the diner in Ohio two years ago, transcript logs of my bank accounts, and a notarized copy of my mother's medical charts dated six months before I ever moved to New York.
My blood turned to liquid ice.
Dominic hadn't met me by accident at the Aster Crown Hotel.
He had been secretly tracking me, managing my mother's medical bills, and watching my life from the shadows long before I ever picked up a catering tray.
CLICK.
The heavy double doors of the study opened behind me.
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Dominic stood in the doorway, wearing his dark coat, his shoulders wet with rain. His storm-gray eyes landed on the open folder in my trembling hands, his face draining of color as he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Sienna..." Dominic whispered rasply.
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