Dominic Vale had made grown men forget how to breathe with a single look. But on a rainy Wednesday afternoon in Manhattan, the most feared man in his world sat helplessly at a restaurant table while his two-year-old triplet daughters destroyed a twelve-dollar basket of bread.

The tension in the nursery was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Sophia Vale stepped closer to Hannah, her designer heels clicking sharply against the hardwood floor. She was a striking woman, possessing the same sharp, dangerous features as her brother, but wrapped in a layer of icy sophistication.

“Answer me,” Sophia demanded, her voice like a whip. “How did you manipulate three non-verbal children into speaking?”

“I didn't manipulate anyone, Miss Vale,” Hannah said firmly, holding her ground despite the trembling in her hands. “I was working my shift when your nieces looked at me and said that word. I was just as shocked as your brother.”

Sophia turned to Dominic, her hands planted on her hips. “Dominic, you’ve lost your mind. You brought a total stranger into our family home! The Moretti family is watching our every move after the shipment delay in Brooklyn last week. If they find out you have a civilian living in the compound, they will use her as leverage against you!”

“The Morettis don't know she’s here,” Dominic said, his voice dangerously low. “And if anyone in this house leaks her presence, I will handle them personally. Including your staff, Sophia.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed. She looked down at the triplets, who had huddled behind Hannah’s legs, peeking out at their aunt with clear hesitation.

“They’re terrified of everyone except her,” Sophia noted, her tone shifting from anger to a strange, dark calculation. “Why?”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” Dominic said. He turned to Hannah. “Mrs. Gable will show you to your suite in the east wing. Take the girls. Get settled.”

Hannah didn't need to be told twice. She picked up Emma and Lily, guided Grace by the hand, and quickly hurried out of the nursery, leaving the Vale siblings alone.

Once the heavy doors closed, Sophia turned to Dominic, her expression deadly serious.

“Dominic, Isabella’s death wasn't an accident,” Sophia whispered, stepping closer to her brother. “We both know the medical report from the private clinic in Switzerland was doctored. Isabella was poisoned before she went into labor.”

Dominic’s eyes turned pitch black, the scar near his eyebrow twitching. “I know.”

“If this girl... this Hannah Mercer... has some connection to Isabella that we don't understand,” Sophia continued urgently, “she could be the key to finding out who ordered Isabella’s death. Or she could be the poisoner’s final piece on the board.”

Dominic looked toward the door where Hannah had just disappeared.

“I checked Hannah’s background myself, Sophia,” Dominic said quietly. “Her father was an accountant in Queens. She has no ties to Switzerland, no ties to the syndicate, and no ties to Isabella. But if someone is using her... I will find out.”

Down the hall, in the lavish east wing suite, Hannah sat on the edge of a king-sized canopy bed.

The room was grander than any hotel she had ever seen, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the misty lake. But she felt like a bird trapped in a gilded cage.

She looked at the three girls, who were happily playing with a set of plush stuffed animals on the velvet rug.

Why me? Hannah thought, wrapping her arms around herself. Why did these innocent children choose me?

She reached into her cardigan pocket and pulled out her father’s old silver pocket watch—the only thing she had left of him. She opened the latch. Inside was a small, faded photograph of her late mother, who had died when Hannah was just a baby.

Hannah stared at her mother’s face. She had seen this photo a thousand times, but today, something felt different.

Her mother’s eyes... the shape of her jaw...

Before Hannah could process the thought, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a text message from an unknown number.