Dominic's POV
"Get out of my way."
Dominic blocked the hallway, his six-foot frame towering over Elena as she tried to push past him. His underboss—the man who'd been like a brother to him—was alive because of her hands. Those same hands that used to trace patterns on his chest now smelled like surgical soap and someone else's blood.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.
Elena's dark eyes flashed with something between anger and pain. "Your man will live. That's all you need to know."
"That's not what I—"
"Move, Dominic." She clutched her medical bag tighter. "I have actual patients who need me."
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere down the hall, a machine beeped steadily. Six years ago, he'd let her walk away. He wouldn't make that mistake twice.
"I know about Adrian."
Elena froze. The color drained from her face so fast Dominic thought she might collapse. Her knuckles went white around the bag's handle.
"How?" The word came out barely above a whisper.
"Does it matter?" Dominic stepped closer, lowering his voice. "He's five years old. Dark hair, dark eyes. Looks exactly like me when I was that age."
"You had no right—"
"I had every right!" His control snapped. "You disappeared for six years. Six years, Elena. Do you know what that did to me?"
She laughed, but it sounded broken. "What it did to you? You chose her, Dominic. You chose your mother and her plans over us."
"I never—"
"The engagement announcement was in the Times three days after I left." Elena's voice shook. "Three days. So don't stand there acting like you're the victim."
Dominic's jaw clenched. That engagement—the one his mother had arranged, the one he'd refused to go through with—had been announced without his permission. But explaining that now seemed pointless. Elena's walls were already back up.
"That engagement never happened," he said quietly. "I called it off."
"Good for you." She tried to move past him again. "Now let me through."
"Name your price."
Elena stopped. "What?"
"Whatever you want." Dominic's heart pounded against his ribs. "Money, position, revenge on my mother—I don't care. Just let me back in your life. Let me know my son."
For a moment, something flickered across her face. Hope? Longing? But then her expression hardened into something cold and distant.
"You want a price?" Elena straightened her shoulders. "Fine. Fifty million dollars. Cash. And a legally binding document that says you'll never contact me or Adrian again."
The words hit Dominic like physical blows. "You can't be serious."
"Completely serious." Her voice didn't waver. "Fifty million buys your guilty conscience and my silence. Adrian will grow up never knowing his father is a criminal. Seems like a fair trade."
"He's my son—"
"He's mine." Elena's eyes blazed. "I'm the one who held him when he cried. I'm the one who stayed up all night with his fevers. I'm the one who's been there every single day while you were doing God knows what with your family business."
Dominic felt something crack inside his chest. "I would have been there. If you'd told me—"
"You would have what? Left your empire? Your mother would have destroyed me, and you know it. She already tried once."
"What are you talking about?"
Elena's laugh was bitter. "You really don't know, do you? The night before I left, your mother came to my apartment. She told me exactly what would happen if I didn't disappear. She had photos, Dominic. Photos of my parents' restaurant, my little brother's school, my sister's workplace. She said accidents happen all the time."
The hallway tilted. "No. My mother wouldn't—"
"Wouldn't she?" Elena's voice cracked. "I was twenty-two years old, pregnant, and terrified. So yes, I ran. I protected our child the only way I knew how."
Dominic's hands curled into fists. His mother. Of course it had been his mother. He'd torn apart the city looking for Elena, never knowing she'd been driven away by his own blood.
"I'll give you the money," he said slowly. "All of it. But I won't sign those papers."
"Then we have nothing to discuss."
"Elena—"
His phone buzzed. Then again. And again. Dominic glanced at the screen and felt ice flood his veins.
The texts were from his security team. Three words that changed everything:
They found her.
They have him.
Adrian's gone.
Dominic's head snapped up, but Elena was already checking her own phone. She staggered backward, her medical bag hitting the floor with a crash.
Her screen showed a photo—their son, sleeping in an unfamiliar room, with a message below:
You took something from us. Now we take something from you. Wait for instructions.
Elena's scream echoed through the empty hallway.