The Mafia Boss Held My Baby Once—Then He Looked at Me and Said, “I Think She’s Mine.”

Stellan did not lie.

That almost made it worse.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Since my father died.”

“Years?”

“Yes.”

My throat closed.

“You knew my father existed before the gala?”

“I knew the name Daniel Vale. I did not know you were his daughter until today.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone the testimony survived?”

“Because it named people who were still alive.”

“That is what testimony is for.”

He flinched.

He opened a locked cabinet and removed a sealed envelope.

“My father told me to release this only if Victor resurfaced.”

“He resurfaced two years ago.”

“I didn’t know for certain.”

“You had doubt.”

Stellan looked away.

Inside the envelope was my father’s sworn statement from twenty years earlier. It named Victor, Harold Ward, two judges, a union official, and Malcolm’s father.

Then I saw another name.

Anthony Cross.

Stellan’s father.

I looked up.

“My father accused yours too.”

Stellan nodded.

Anthony had not built the empire cleanly. He had used illegal money in the early years, then tried to pull out after Stellan was nearly killed as a child.

Daniel agreed to cooperate because Anthony promised protection.

That promise failed.

My father disappeared.

My mother lived in fear.

And twenty years later, I walked into the Cross mansion as a maid because I could not pay rent.

I laughed once, bitterly.

“Your family ruined mine before you ever met me.”

Stellan said nothing.

“I need air.”

“Selene—”

“Don’t.”

I took Fern and walked to the conservatory.