88She Vanished Before Their Engagement Dinner, and the Three Words Under His Glass Made the Mafia Boss Forget How to Breathe

At ten o'clock on Friday morning, the sun broke through the clouds over Wall Street, reflecting off the glass towers in a dazzling display of gold and silver.

The executive office of Joseph Vane—the senior captain who had sat at the center table during the canceled dinner at Alder House—was located on the twenty-second floor of an old limestone building on Broad Street.

Joseph sat behind his large mahogany desk, nervously sipping cold espresso from a porcelain cup.

His hands were trembling.

Standing by the window, looking out at the street below, was Leo Vale.

And sitting in the leather armchair across from Joseph was Damian.

Damian was impeccably dressed in a custom charcoal three-piece suit, his hair neatly styled, his face shaved and calm. He looked like a billionaire venture capitalist attending a routine quarterly review.

“Damian…” Joseph stammered, setting his espresso cup down with a loud clatter against the saucer. “I was so glad to hear that Nora was recovered safely last night. Truly, my entire family has been praying—”

“Caleb Rourke didn't find the bakery on his own, Joseph,” Damian interrupted smoothly.

Joseph froze. The color drained from his nose and lips.

“What… what do you mean?” Joseph squeaked.

Damian reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a clean white sheet of paper. He laid it flat on the mahogany desk.

“This is a bank transfer record from a private account in Nassau,” Damian explained, pointing to a line of numbers at the top of the page. “Dated three weeks ago. Fifty thousand dollars transferred to an account belonging to your nephew, Tommy.”

Joseph swallowed hard. “Tommy? Tommy has a gambling problem, Damian! You know that! He borrows money from everyone—”

“Tommy didn't borrow that money,” Damian said, his voice dropping into that terrifying, icy pitch. “Tommy sold Caleb the private delivery schedules for Larkspur Bakery. He gave Caleb the security access code for the back door that you provided him six months ago when we upgraded the security system for Nora’s shop.”

Joseph stood up so fast his heavy leather chair rolled back against the window frame.

“I didn't know!” Joseph shouted, tears of panic welling in his eyes. “I swear to Almighty God, Damian! Tommy told me he was selling the code to a commercial real estate developer who wanted to buy the building! I didn't know Caleb was alive! I didn't know it was for him!”

Damian stood up slowly.

He buttoned his suit jacket with two precise movements of his hands.

“Ignorance isn't an excuse when it comes to my family, Joseph,” Damian said quietly.

Leo stepped away from the window, pulling a silenced 9mm pistol from his jacket.

Joseph’s eyes went wide with horror. “Damian! Please! Forty years I served your father! Forty years!”

Damian walked to the door of the office, his hand resting on the brass handle. He didn't turn back.

“You served my father well, Joseph,” Damian said softly. “That’s why Leo is going to make sure your wife keeps the house in Long Island and your pension continues to be paid every month.”

Damian opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

THWACK. THWACK.

The soft, muffled double-pop of the suppressor echoed behind the heavy oak door, followed by the heavy sound of a body hitting the carpet.

Damian walked down the carpeted corridor toward the elevator.

His phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out and answered it.

“Hello, Nora,” he said, his voice instantly softening, the ice melting away as if it had never existed.

“Where are you?” her voice came through the speaker, warm, clear, and filled with the sound of city traffic in the background.

“Just wrapping up a business meeting downtown,” Damian said, stepping into the private elevator as the doors slid shut. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m at Tenth Street,” she said. “The glass company just finished replacing the back door lock. And… Damian?”

“Yes?”

“I’m baking.”