Chapter 4 - The Gala's Ghost
The private dining room at L'Étoile, the most exclusive restaurant in Chicago, was entirely empty save for our table. Dominic had bought out the entire establishment for the evening, surrounding the building with his men, ensuring our dinner was completely isolated from the prying eyes of the city's elite. I wore a stunning, emerald-green silk maternity gown that Dominic had flown in from Paris, the fabric draping elegantly over my growing stomach, making me feel like absolute royalty. Dominic sat across from me, radiating power, his dark eyes fixed entirely on me, completely ignoring the Michelin-starred food on his plate.
"You said you wanted to explain the night of the gala," I prompted softly, setting my wine glass—filled with sparkling water—down on the crisp white linen.
Dominic leaned back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his crystal scotch glass. The ambient lighting cast sharp, dangerous shadows across his face.
"When you coordinate these charity events, Chloe," Dominic began, his voice low and measured, "you focus on the flowers, the lighting, the guest list. You see the surface. But events like the Starlight Gala are never just about charity. They are neutral ground. They are places where rival syndicates, corrupt politicians, and cartel bosses can meet under the guise of philanthropy."
I frowned, remembering the masked faces, the excessive wealth, the hidden whispers in the corners of the ballroom before the gunfire started.
"I was there that night," Dominic continued, "to meet with the head of the Moretti family. We had a territorial dispute over the south side shipping lanes. We were supposed to negotiate a treaty. But Moretti got greedy. He brought armed men into the hotel through the service elevators. When the lights went out, it wasn't a random attack. It was an orchestrated assassination attempt on my life."
My breath hitched. The memory of the shattering glass, the screams, the terrifying darkness came rushing back. "And that's why you pulled me into the study."
"I pulled you into the study because you were standing in the crossfire," Dominic said, his eyes narrowing slightly at the memory. "Moretti's men were sweeping the hallway. If you had taken two more steps toward the exit, they would have gunned you down just for being a witness. I grabbed you, covered your mouth, and locked us in the dark because it was the only way to keep you breathing."
He set his glass down, leaning forward, resting his powerful forearms on the table.
"But here is the detail I discovered today, Chloe," Dominic said, his voice dropping to a register so cold it froze the blood in my veins. "My men have been dismantling Derek's life, digging into every email, every bank record, every phone call he made over the last five years. Do you want to know why Derek left you exactly two weeks before the gala?"
I stared at him, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "He said he needed to find himself. He was cheating on me."
"He was cheating on you," Dominic agreed, "but that wasn't why he left. Derek was a mid-level manager at a logistics firm. A firm that heavily utilized the south side shipping lanes. Six months ago, Derek accrued a massive, unpayable gambling debt at an underground casino run by the Moretti family."
The puzzle pieces began to slam together with sickening clarity.
"Moretti didn't break Derek's legs," Dominic explained, his eyes locking onto mine with absolute, lethal intensity. "He offered him a deal. Moretti knew you were the lead coordinator for the Starlight Gala. He knew you had the blueprints, the security schedules, the access codes for the service elevators. Moretti told Derek that if he provided the security blind spots for the hotel, his debt would be forgiven."
I felt physically sick. The opulent food on my plate suddenly looked revolting. "Derek... Derek gave them the access codes?"
"Yes," Dominic stated flatly. "But Derek was a coward. He knew that if the assassination attempt on me failed, I would trace the security breach back to the coordinator—you. And if it succeeded, the FBI would tear your life apart investigating the breach. So, two weeks before the event, he packed a bag, dumped you to distance himself from the fallout, and hid in the suburbs with his new girlfriend, leaving you entirely exposed to the crossfire he helped create."
A profound, suffocating silence filled the dining room.
The man I had loved for three years, the man I had cried over, hadn't just abandoned me. He had actively traded my safety, my life, and my freedom to save his own skin. He had set the stage for a mafia shootout, left me standing in the center of the kill zone, and then had the audacity to mock my appearance in a café four months later, completely unaware that the only reason I survived his betrayal was because the man he tried to have killed pulled me into the dark.
Tears of absolute, pure rage pricked my eyes. I looked down at my stomach, placing my hand protectively over the child growing inside me. The child that existed only because Derek had thrown me to the wolves, and Dominic Russo had caught me.
"Moretti is dead," Dominic said quietly, breaking the silence. "I killed him the week after the gala. The men who fired the shots in the hallway are dead. I systematically dismantled every piece of the organization that put you in danger that night. The only loose end left... is Derek."
Dominic stood up from the table, walking around to my side. He knelt beside my chair, taking my trembling hands in his.
"I am a violent man, Chloe," Dominic whispered, pressing his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin. "I do not believe in forgiveness. I do not believe in mercy. He put you in danger. He put my unborn child in a warzone. I have stripped him of his money, his job, and his home. But that is not enough. I need you to tell me what you want me to do with him."
I looked into the dark, bottomless eyes of the king of Chicago. I felt the immense, terrifying power he was handing to me on a silver platter. I wasn't just a discarded fiancée anymore. I was the mother of his heir. I was the queen of the syndicate.
"I want him to know," I whispered, the anger crystallizing into a cold, diamond-hard resolve. "I want him to look at me, look at you, and realize exactly what his betrayal cost him. I want him to live the rest of his miserable life knowing he handed me the keys to the kingdom."
May you like
Dominic smiled, a slow, predatory expression that sent a thrill of dark electricity straight to my core.
"Consider it done, my queen."
