The Mafia boss secretly returned before dawn from London to test his fiancée

By mid-afternoon, the rain over Newport had slackened into a cold, biting mist that clung to the rocky bluffs.

Inside the grand kitchen of the Mercer estate, Emma Collins stood at the butcher-block island, carefully slicing fresh lemons for afternoon tea.

The service door behind her opened silently.

Dominic stepped out, having changed into a simple dark turtleneck and charcoal trousers. He looked like a shadow moving through his own ancestral home—unseen, unheard, and gathering every thread of the trap.

"Where is Noah?" Dominic asked quietly.

Emma turned, wiping her hands on her apron. "He is in the greenhouse with Natalie, reading a book about maritime lighthouses. He hasn't come into the main house all morning."

"Good," Dominic said, stepping toward the window to watch his sister and nephew across the lawn. "And Brooke?"

"She is in the master dressing suite," Emma said, lowering her voice. "She called a private courier two hours ago. She took your mother’s diamond parure—the one Catherine wore to the Governor’s Ball—and locked it in her personal travel trunk."

Before Dominic could respond, the heavy footsteps of high heels clicked down the grand corridor.

Dominic vanished back behind the service door with the effortless speed of a ghost.

Brooke walked into the kitchen carrying a small porcelain teacup and an empty velvet jewelry pouch. Her face was flushed with manufactured outrage.

"Emma," Brooke commanded sharply. "Where is the diamond necklace that was on the vanity in the guest suite?"

Emma turned slowly, keeping her hands flat on the counter. "I haven't been in the guest suite today, Miss Harrington."

"Do not lie to me!" Brooke snapped, tossing the empty velvet pouch onto the island. "That necklace is valued at three hundred thousand dollars! It belongs to the estate! I saw Natalie walking out of that corridor thirty minutes ago!"

"Natalie was in the conservatory helping Noah with his schoolwork," Emma replied, her voice calm and level.

Brooke stepped closer, her eyes glittering with malicious calculation. "Natalie is desperate for money. Her husband left her with debts, and now she’s stealing family heirlooms from under Dominic's roof before the wedding. I’m calling the Newport Police Department to report a grand larceny."

"You don't need to call the police, Brooke," a small, trembling voice spoke from the kitchen doorway.

Nine-year-old Noah stood in the entrance, wearing a worn green corduroy jacket, holding his stuffed baseball mascot under his arm. His hazel eyes—so much like his grandmother Catherine’s—were wide with fierce, unshakeable honesty.

"Noah," Brooke said, her voice instantly dropping into sweet, patronizing tones. "Sweetheart, you shouldn't be listening to adult conversations. Go back to the garden."

"I saw you," Noah said, his small jaw setting with stubborn courage. "I came inside to get my water bottle an hour ago. I saw you take Grandma Catherine's necklace from the safe and put it inside your big leather bag in the closet."

Brooke’s face went entirely white.

The sweet, gentle mask vanished in an instant, replaced by a contorted sneer of raw, unhinged fury. She took two aggressive strides toward the nine-year-old boy, her hand raised.

"You little liar!" Brooke hissed, her voice vibrating with venom. "You dare speak to me like that in this house? I will make sure you and your mother are living in a homeless shelter before the sun sets!"

Behind the service door, Dominic’s hand closed around the heavy brass handle.

Every instinct in his body screamed to tear the door off its hinges and break the woman where she stood. But discipline—the cold, tactical restraint that had kept him alive across three continents—held his hand.

Not yet, Dominic told himself, his chest heaving with silent, terrifying fury. Tomorrow, she falls in front of everyone.

Emma stepped smoothly between Brooke and the little boy, her arms outstretched. "Step away from the child, Miss Harrington. If you touch him, I will call the security detail at the main gate."

Brooke lowered her hand, trembling with rage. "You are all finished here. Every single one of you. Tomorrow afternoon, Harrison Cole finalizes the deeds. And by Sunday morning, this house will be cleared of parasites."

She spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, her heels slamming against the marble floor.

Emma knelt down, wrapping her arms around trembling little Noah, stroking his dark hair. "You were very brave, Noah. Very brave."