Aria's POV

"Tell me, Aria... have you ever had a child?"

The question hung in the dimly lit nursery, sounding heavy. My heart slammed in my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it.

I forced a laugh, a dry sound that scraped the back of my throat.

"I worked odd jobs, Mr. Valentino," I lied, keeping my voice steady. "Daycares. Babysitting for double shifts. When you're handed a screaming infant and told to make it stop, you figure it out fast."

Dominic didn't blink. His dark eyes searched my face, dissecting every micro-expression. "Is that so."

"Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put him down."

I put down my Luca and then turned away too fast. Panic made my movements jerky. My foot caught on the edge of the thick Persian rug, and I couldn't brace for the fall.

I didn't hit the ground.

A large, calloused hand clamped around my waist like a steel vice, yanking me backward.

I crashed hard against a solid wall of muscle. Dominic's other arm wrapped around my front, securing me against his chest in one fluid, impossibly fast motion.

The air rushed out of my lungs. My back was arched, my chest pressed flush against him as I twisted my head to look up.

For a split second, the elegant nursery faded.

I remembered that night a year ago!

The smell of rain, copper blood, and raw danger.

An alleyway swallowed by shadows.

The feverish heat of a man poisoned and cornered, gripping my waist with strength. He had lifted me off the ground with one arm, pressing my upper body flush against his, our breaths mingling as the world tilted...

A sudden, sharp intake of breath snapped me back to the present.

I was staring up into Dominic's face. He was inches away, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked beneath his skin.

My chest heaved, my breasts brushing the hard plane of his chest with every ragged breath. Heat radiated from his palm, scorching through the thin cotton of my shirt, sending a treacherous, electric weakness straight down to my knees.

He was perfectly still, but the rigid tension of his body betrayed him. Against my hip, I could feel the hard shift of his physical reaction.

Yet, his face remained a mask of flawless, chilling indifference.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice a dark, vibrating rasp that seemed to echo in my bones.

"Thank you," I gasped, instantly pulling away the moment his grip loosened. My legs were trembling so violently I could barely stand.

I forced me to keep looking a Luca into the crib, not daring to look back. "Goodnight, Mr. Valentino."

I heard his footsteps retreat. When I finally turned, the doorway was empty.

By noon the next day, the tension in the estate had morphed into something entirely different. Jasmine was on the warpath.

She had noticed. Of course she had. Jasmine possessed a predator's instinct for whenever a man's attention wavered from her, and Dominic's icy dismissal the previous night had sent her into a spiral of vicious insecurity.

She needed to assert her dominance, and I was the easiest target.

"Aria," Jasmine's voice sliced through the quiet of the grand library.

I paused, a heavy stack of leather-bound books in my arms. Dominic was seated at the massive mahogany desk at the far end of the room, listening to his assistant Chase read a security report. He didn't look up, but the scratching of his pen stopped.

Jasmine stood near the towering, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, draped in a silk lounger, sipping espresso. "You missed a spot on the upper molding. Just because I took pity on you and gave you a job doesn't mean you can slack off in front of my husband."

"The cleaning staff handles the high shelves, Jasmine," I said evenly.

"Call me Mrs. Valentino! And I'm telling you to do it. " She smiled, a brittle, cruel thing. "Use the rolling ladder. Don't be lazy."

I clenched my jaw. Arguing would only draw Dominic's scrutiny.

I set the books down and walked over to the wooden ladder attached to the brass rail.

I climbed, step by step, feeling the weight of two pairs of eyes on my back, Jasmine's glaring with spite, and another, heavier gaze burning from the desk.

I reached the top rung, stretching my arm with a cloth to dust the ornate woodwork.

Below, Jasmine shifted. The heel of her stiletto "accidentally" kicked the base of the ladder.

The brass wheels screeched. The ladder jerked violently to the right.

"Ah!" My fingers slipped from the molding. The world tipped sideways.

I fell.

I braced for the shattering impact of the marble floor, but it never came.

A blur of movement crossed the room. Two powerful arms caught me mid-air, the impact driving the breath from my lungs as we hit the edge of a side table.

There was a sharp, tearing sound of fabric.

A sharp corner of the table's brass fixture had caught the neckline of my shirt as I tumbled into Dominic's arms. The thin cotton ripped violently down my collarbone, exposing my left shoulder completely to the cold air of the library.

I gasped, scrambling to right myself in his arms, my hand flying up to cover my chest.

But I was too slow.

Dominic froze. The arms holding me went entirely rigid.

His dark eyes were locked on my bare skin. Right on the pale, light-brown birthmark, shaped like a crescent moon, resting on the curve of my left shoulder.

The air vanished from the room. I watched his pupils dilate, a shockwave of recognition, disbelief, and raw fury crashing across his face.

"Dominic? Oh my god, Dom, what happened?!" Jasmine's frantic, high-pitched voice echoed as she sprinted toward us, her face pale with fake concern. "Are you okay?"

Dominic didn't look at her. He didn't even acknowledge she was in the room.

His hand shot out, his long fingers wrapping around my wrist in a vice-like grip. He yanked my hand away from my torn collar, exposing the birthmark again.

His breathing was heavy, chaotic. The terrifyingly calm mob boss was gone, replaced by the man from the alleyway.

"Dominic?" Jasmine faltered, stopping a few feet away, panic finally bleeding into her voice. "What... what's wrong?"

Dominic blocked her sight. She didn't notice he had seen my birthmark.

Dominic slowly raised his eyes from my shoulder to my face. His jaw was locked so tight I thought his teeth might shatter.

"Who," he ground out, his voice a barely restrained growl, "exactly are you?"

Aria's POV

"Who," he ground out, his voice a barely restrained growl, "exactly are you?"

My pulse hammered wildly. The grip he had on my wrist was bruising, his dark eyes tearing through my defenses, searching for the ghost of a woman he had met in an alleyway a year ago.

Before I could force a single word past the lump in my throat, Jasmine thrust herself between us.

"Dom, stop, you're hurting her!" Jasmine wedged her hands against his chest, her voice pitching into a perfect octave of wifely distress. She glanced at my torn collar, her eyes widening for a second in sheer panic before her instincts kicked in.

"Oh," Jasmine let out a breathless, forced laugh, her hands flattening against Dominic's pristine shirt. "You saw her mark. Darling, I told you about my family."

Dominic's gaze didn't leave my face. "What family?"

"The birthmark, Dom." Jasmine reached up, deliberately pulling the silk collar of her lounger down to expose her own right shoulder. "It's a Harrington family trait. I have one, and my cousin Aria has one too. See?"

I stared at her bare skin. There, painted flawlessly with waterproof cosmetic ink, was a crescent-shaped mark. It was exactly same as mine. She had prepared for this. She had known the birthmark would be a detail Dominic might remember from that night, and she had forged it on her own body to solidify her lie.

Dominic slowly turned his head to look at Jasmine's shoulder. His jaw flexed. The chaotic, violent storm in his eyes didn't vanish, but it receded behind a thick wall of ice.

He released my wrist as if my skin had burned him.

Without another word, he stepped back, adjusted the cuffs of his shirt, and looked at his assistant standing quietly by the door. "Chase. We're leaving. Now."

The heavy doors of the library slammed shut behind them, leaving a suffocating silence in their wake.

The moment the lock clicked, Jasmine's fragile facade shattered. She lunged at me, grabbing my arms, her perfectly manicured nails digging into my skin.

"Are you insane?!" she hissed, her face inches from mine, eyes wild and vicious. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"I slipped, Jasmine," I said coldly, shoving her hands off me.

"You listen to me," she breathed, her voice trembling with real, unadulterated fear. "If he finds out the truth, he won't just divorce me. He will put a bullet in my head, and then he will put one in yours for lying under his roof. Do you understand? You will be dead, and Luca will be raised by another woman. You will never see your son again."

She hit the exact nerve she was aiming for. My stomach dropped, bile rising in my throat. I pulled my torn shirt tight across my chest, turned on my heel, and walked out.

Over the next forty-eight hours, the estate felt like a powder keg waiting for a spark. Dominic avoided the residential wing entirely, barricading himself in his study or leaving for "business" before sunrise.

But my attention had shifted to something far more alarming than Dominic Valentino's piercing stares.

It was Luca.

During the day, when Jasmine supposedly "supervised" his care while I slept, the baby was practically a zombie. He barely made a sound, sleeping through feedings, his little limbs limp and lethargic.

But the moment midnight struck and my shift began, it was as if a spell broke. Luca would wake up screaming, his tiny body rigid, crying with a frantic, desperate agony that tore my heart to shreds.

Babies had colic. Babies had sleep regressions. But this felt horribly, sickeningly unnatural.

On the third afternoon, I woke up early. The sprawling mansion was unusually busy. Maria Valentino, Dominic's grandmother, had arrived for an unannounced visit.

I found them in the sunroom. Jasmine was sitting stiffly on a velvet sofa, scrolling on her phone, while Maria sat in a high-backed armchair.

The old woman was blind, her eyes milky and unfocused, but she held Luca securely in her lap.

I stood in the doorway, watching as Maria gently ran her weathered, ring-covered fingers over Luca's pale, sleeping face.

"He is too quiet," Maria murmured, her raspy voice laced with a heavy Italian accent. "A Valentino baby does not sleep like a stone, Jasmine. He breathes like he is swimming in deep water."

"He's just a good sleeper, Nonna," Jasmine said dismissively, not looking up from her screen. "The doctor said he's perfectly healthy."

I walked over to the small cart holding Luca's used daytime bottles. I intended to gather them for the dishwasher, but as I picked up the plastic bottle Jasmine had supposedly fed him an hour ago, something caught my eye.

The milk was gone, but caught in the ridge of the plastic bottom was a thick, chalky white residue.

Formula didn't clump like that. Not if it was mixed with warm water.

I turned my back to the room, my heart suddenly racing. I unscrewed the cap, swiped a finger against the bottom of the bottle, and brought it to my nose. It didn't smell like milk. It smelled faintly chemical, bitter.

My blood froze in my veins.

Sleeping pills. She was drugging my baby. To keep him quiet so she didn't have to deal with him during the day.

A visceral, blinding rage exploded in my chest. My vision actually went white at the edges. I spun around, the bottle gripped so tightly in my hand the plastic groaned.

Jasmine looked up. She saw my face. She saw the bottle in my hand.

For a split second, I saw the truth flash in her eyes, the guilt, the realization that I knew exactly what she had done.

But Jasmine was a survivor, and her counterattack was quick.

She threw her phone across the room, stood up, and let out a blood-curdling scream.

"Help! Someone help me!" Jasmine shrieked, rushing toward Maria and snatching the sleeping baby from the old woman's arms. "She's poisoning my baby! Help!"

Aria's POV

The doors burst open. Dominic strode in, his face murderous, with Chase right on his heels.

"Dom!" Jasmine sobbed, clutching Luca to her chest as she pointed a shaking finger at me.

"I caught her! I saw her putting powder in his milk! She's unhinged, Dominic! She has a criminal record for assault. She's a violent felon! Call the police! Send her back to prison before she kills him!"

The sunroom descended into chaos. The guards at the door reached for their weapons. Maria gripped the arms of her chair, her blind eyes wide.

My eyes were rimmed red, filled with a mother's protective fury.

I stood my ground, my chest heaving, refusing to let go of the bottle in my hand. I stared straight at Jasmine, silently promising her that if my son was hurt, I would tear her apart with my bare hands.

Dominic's eyes swept the room. They bypassed his hysterical wife. They bypassed his confused grandmother.

They locked onto me.

He looked at my shaking hands, the death grip I had on the baby bottle, and the raw, absolute devastation on my face.

Dominic held his hand out toward me, his voice a lethal, terrifyingly calm command that silenced the entire room.

"Give me the bottle." He didn't blink. He turned his head slightly to his assistant. "Chase. Lock down the estate. Nobody leaves. And pull the security footage from the nursery for the last forty-eight hours."

I handed Dominic the plastic bottle. Our fingers brushed. His skin was ice cold.

"A doctor," I choked out, ignoring Jasmine's fake sobs. "Please. Look at him. He is too pale. Get a doctor for Luca first. The cameras do not matter right now."

Jasmine clutched the baby tighter to her chest. "Don't listen to her, Dom! She wants a doctor to cover her tracks! She is dangerous!"

Dominic stared at me. His jaw locked. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Dr. Evans. Get to the estate. Five minutes." He ended the call and handed the bottle to Chase. "Take this to the lab."

We waited in the main living room.

The doctor went upstairs to check Luca. Jasmine paced the floor, crying loud, dramatic tears.

I stood by the large glass window, my arms wrapped around myself. My chest ached. I just wanted my son to be okay.

Chase walked into the room. His face was grim.

"Boss," Chase said. "The nursery cameras went dark at 1:00 PM. Someone wiped the local drive."

Jasmine gasped. "She destroyed the footage!"

I frowned. I did not know how to hack a security system.

I looked out the window. Down by the service gates, a dark gray sedan was pulling away. The driver rolled down his window to scan a badge.

Daniel.

My blood ran cold. Jasmine's boyfriend. He had security clearance to visit her. He wiped the cameras.

"Throw her out, Dominic!" Jasmine yelled. "She drugged my baby and erased the video. Send her back to jail!"

The guards stepped closer to me. The air in the room grew thin. I had no proof. Jasmine had set the perfect trap.

The heavy thump of a wooden cane hit the marble floor.

Maria walked forward. The blind woman moved with purpose. She stopped right in front of me. She reached out and grabbed my right hand.

I flinched, but she held on. Her thumbs rubbed over my palms. She felt the thick calluses from years of waitressing and prison laundry.

"Nonna, get away from her," Jasmine pleaded.

Maria ignored her. She turned her sightless eyes toward her grandson.

"The person who drugged my Luca had a heart beating like a drum," Maria said, her voice dry and firm. "You smelled like fear, Jasmine. But this girl..."

Maria squeezed my rough hand.

"This girl has the hands of someone who works. She only asked for a doctor. She genuinely cares for Luca. Dominic, are you blind?"

Silence filled the room. Jasmine turned pale.

Dominic looked from his grandmother to me. He raised a hand. The guards stepped back.

Midnight. The estate was dark. Dr. Evans had cleared Luca, saying the dose was small and he would sleep it off.

I sat on the edge of my small bed, staring at the blank wall.

The door handle turned.

Dominic stepped inside. He closed the door behind him. The room was small, and his massive frame took up all the space.

He did not yell. He did not ask about the sleeping pills.

He tossed a thick manila folder onto my mattress.

I looked down. It had the Lockwood Correctional logo stamped on the front.

"I read your prison file," Dominic said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "Who did you take the fall for?"