Chapter 5 - The Shadows of the Past
By three in the morning, the rain had stopped, leaving the streets of New York slick and gleaming under the neon lights.
I brought Olivia and Sophie back to the estate. The reunion inside the vault was tearful and chaotic. Nora threw her arms around her older sisters, and for the first time in over a year, my home echoed with the sound of my children crying, hugging, and talking frantically.
Grace sat on the edge of the cot, watching them with soft, tear-filled eyes.
I stood by the doorway, resting against the steel frame, watching my broken family begin to reassemble its pieces. But as I looked at Grace, a dark, unsettling realization began to take root in my mind.
How had Grace known how to handle my daughters so perfectly? Why had Sophie trusted her enough to whisper the truth on her very first attempt, when top psychologists had failed for a year? And why did a simple housemaid from an agency handle a Glock 19 like a trained combat officer?
I motioned for Grace to step out into the hallway.
She followed me into the dimly lit corridor, closing the heavy vault door behind her. She looked exhausted, her chestnut hair messy, the smudge of blood still lingering on her temple.
"Thank you," I said, my tone genuine. "For protecting Nora. For staying with them."
"They're good kids, Mr. Romano," Grace said softly, leaning against the wall. "They just needed someone to listen to them without expecting them to be broken."
I leaned in closer, trapping her against the wall with my frame. "Who are you, Grace?"
Grace's eyes flickered, but she didn't back down. "I told you. My name is Grace Bennett. I'm a housekeeper."
"Housekeepers don't take a hit to the head from an armed mercenary and clear a firearm's safety in a fraction of a second," I said, my voice dropping. "And housekeepers don't get hired through elite agencies without leaving a single paper trail before three years ago."
Grace swallowed hard. She looked down at her hands, then back up at me. "If I tell you the truth, do you promise not to pull that gun on me?"
"I don't make promises I might have to break," I said coldly.
Grace took a deep breath. "My real name is Grace Vance. My father wasn't just a Chicago cop, Dominic. He was an undercover detective who investigated the Council's Midwest distribution lines six years ago."
My eyebrows drew together. "Detective Thomas Vance?"
"Yes," Grace said, her voice tight with suppressed anger. "The Council found out who he was. They sent a hit team to our home. My father was killed. My mother was wounded. I was put into witness protection, but I knew the feds would never truly bring down the men who gave the order."
"So you came to New York," I murmured.
"I hunted the Council for three years," Grace admitted, looking directly into my soul. "I tracked their money, their safe houses, their connections. When Isabelle was murdered, my sources told me it was an insider job within your organization. I knew your daughters were the only witnesses. So I faked my credentials, got hired through your agency, and waited."
"You used my daughters to get to the Council?" Rage flared in my chest again.
"No!" Grace said fiercely, taking a step toward me. "At first, yes—I wanted information. But the second I walked into this house and saw those three sweet, terrified little girls sitting in the dark, everything changed. I didn't care about revenge anymore, Dominic. I cared about saving them. I realized the only way to keep them safe was to earn their trust so they could tell the truth!"
I stared at her, searching her face for any sign of deception. I had spent my entire life reading liars, killers, and sociopaths.
Grace wasn't lying. Her anger was real. Her love for my daughters was real.
Before I could answer, my satellite phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Lev.
"Dominic," Lev said, his voice laced with urgent static. "We have a massive problem. Don Carmine's death triggered an emergency protocol. The remaining four bosses of the Council have mobilized their entire force. They know Julian failed, and they know you executed Carmine."
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"How many?" I asked.
"Over fifty hitmen are moving toward your Long Island estate right now," Lev warned. "They aren't coming to negotiate, Dom. They're coming to burn the mansion to the ground with everyone inside."
