Chapter 1 – The Forged Signature on the Certificate

The silence in the dining room was so absolute I could hear the crystal prisms on the chandeliers clinking together from the air conditioning.

Thirty-four guests stared at the head of the table.

Dominic Romano did not yell.

He didn’t have to.

When a man who controlled half the shipping ports in Chicago lowered his voice, it was far more terrifying than a scream.

He stared at the silver-haired man Victoria had introduced as her Uncle Raymond.

“I’m going to ask you one time,” Dominic said softly. “Are you her husband?”

Raymond wiped his mouth with a linen napkin.

His hands were shaking so violently he dropped the cloth onto his untouched plate.

“Dominic, listen to me,” Raymond stammered. “It was just a piece of paper. A business arrangement.”

Victoria rushed forward, grabbing Dominic’s sleeve.

“Darling, he’s telling the truth! Raymond and I have been separated for years. He just needed a place to stay, and I didn’t want to explain my past to your family.”

Dominic didn’t look at her.

He looked at Judge Margaret Whitmore, whose hand was still gripping my arm for support.

“Margaret,” Dominic said gently. “You said she brought you a marriage certificate last month.”

The elderly widow nodded, her eyes filled with sorrow.

“She came to my house in the suburbs. She said you were too busy with the unions to do a proper courthouse visit. She handed me a certificate with your signature already on it.”

Victoria’s face turned the color of ash.

“She’s senile!” Victoria shrieked, her carefully cultivated elegance completely shattering. “She’s a confused old woman who doesn’t know what she’s saying!”

Dominic slowly turned his head.

He looked at the woman he had asked to marry just three months ago.

“Margaret was the judge who handled my father’s estate,” Dominic said, his voice dropping another octave. “Her mind is sharper than any attorney in this city.”

He reached into his tailored suit jacket and pulled out his cell phone.

“Marco,” Dominic said into the receiver.

Two seconds later, the massive oak doors of the dining room swung shut.

Four men in dark suits stepped inside, locking the deadbolts.

The guests began to murmur in panic.

I stood frozen against the wall, clutching the serving tray against my chest like a shield. I was making fifteen dollars an hour. I had a little sister to put through college. I didn’t belong in the middle of a mafia breakdown.

“Nobody leaves,” Dominic announced to the room.

He walked slowly toward Raymond.

“You witnessed a marriage certificate,” Dominic said. “A certificate marrying your own wife to me.”

Raymond stood up, knocking his heavy oak chair backward.

“I owed money, Dominic! To the Rossi family! They were going to kill me!”

Dominic’s eyes darkened at the mention of the rival family.

“So you decided to steal my name?”

“No!” Victoria cried. “Dominic, I did it to protect you! If the Rossis knew Raymond was my husband, they would use him to get to you!”

“That makes no sense,” Dominic whispered.

He turned back to Margaret.

“Judge. Did you bring the document with you?”

Margaret nodded slowly.

She unclasped her worn leather handbag with trembling fingers.

She pulled out a thick, folded piece of heavy stock paper.

“I refused to file it without seeing you in person,” Margaret explained. “That’s why I came tonight. To warn you.”

Dominic took the paper.

He unfolded it.

I watched his dark eyes scan the text.

For a moment, his face was completely unreadable.

Then, a muscle feathered in his jaw.

“This isn’t just a marriage certificate,” Dominic said quietly.

Victoria took a step back, bumping into the table.

“Dominic, please—”

“Answer one question for me, Victoria,” Dominic said, holding the paper up to the chandelier light.

He looked directly into her terrified eyes.

“Why is there a clause in here transferring fifty percent of my father’s offshore trust to a six-year-old boy named Leo?”

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