A four-year-old maid’s daughter whispered, “Mommy has been missing for three days”—and led the mafia boss to a locked room beneath his own mansion. / Chapter 24 / 41

Chapter 23 - The Child of Treason

The prison hospital ward was devoid of any warmth or comfort, painted in a sickening shade of institutional green. Claire Bennett lay on the stark white bed, looking pale and completely hollowed out by the events of the past year. Her hands rested over the swollen curve of her stomach. The child was due any day now.

Dominic stood in the doorway, accompanied by a female guard. He had arranged this visit through layers of legal bureaucracy, not out of malice, but out of a rigid sense of duty to the future.

Claire turned her head, her eyes wide and frightened as she saw him.

"Dominic," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Have you come to gloat? To watch me suffer before the trial?"

"I do not find joy in your suffering, Claire," Dominic said, stepping into the room but keeping a considerable distance from the bed. "I came to discuss the child."

Claire instinctively wrapped her arms around her stomach, a protective, desperate gesture.

"You can't have him. You killed his father."

"Nathan killed himself the moment he decided to play God with my family," Dominic corrected coldly. "I am not here to take your child, Claire. I am here to ensure your child does not grow up carrying the weight of his father's sins, or yours."

Claire blinked, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"When the baby is born, he will become a ward of the state. Because of your pending convictions, he will be placed in the foster system. A system that will eventually spit him out angry, lost, and exactly like Nathan."

Dominic reached into his coat and produced a thick, sealed envelope, placing it on the small metal table near the door.

"These are adoption papers. I have arranged for a family in Seattle to take him. A good family. A doctor and a teacher. They cannot have children of their own. They know nothing about Nathan Cross, and they know nothing about you. They only know a child needs a home."

Claire stared at the envelope as if it were a loaded weapon.

"You want me to give him away?"

"I want you to give him a chance," Dominic said quietly. "A chance to be clean. A chance to have a life that does not end in a prison hospital or a shallow grave."

Claire began to weep, deep, agonizing sobs that shook her entire frame. She knew he was right. She knew the toxic legacy she carried.