A four-year-old girl touched a blind mafia boss’s eyes and whispered, “I can heal you.” But when she revealed what her mother knew, his fiancée went pale and grabbed the child’s wrist, exposing a lie that had already stolen four years of his life.

"Elena," Lily whispered. "My mama's name is Elena Vance."

The world seemed to drop out from underneath my shoes.

Elena.

Four years ago, Elena had vanished without a trace. She was the love of my life, my fiancé before Isabella, the woman who had shared every secret of the Moretti empire with me.

And then, one rainy night, she was gone.

Isabella had been the one to bring me the news back then. She presented bank records showing Elena had withdrawn two million dollars and boarded a flight to London with a rival mob lieutenant.

I had believed it. I had let hatred extinguish the memory of her touch.

And now, a four-year-old girl with vanilla scented hair stood in Central Park, holding a picture.

"Dominic, please," Isabella gasped, her voice shrill with an panic she could no longer conceal. "This is a setup. Elena was a traitor! You know what she did to you!"

"Quiet," I commanded, my low voice carrying a lethal edge that made Isabella freeze instantly.

I knelt down on the damp pavement, reaching out blindly until my fingertips brushed the stiff paper Lily held.

"Give me the picture, sweetie," I said softly, smoothing my tone.

Lily placed the photograph into my palm.

I couldn't see the image. The blackness behind my eyelids remained total, suffocating, cruel. But I ran my thumb over the glossy surface.

"What is on this paper, Lily?" I asked gently.

"It's you," Lily said innocently. "And Mama. You were hugging her near a big blue ocean. And on the back, Mama wrote: To Dominic, my eyes will always watch over you."

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

I remembered that photo. It was taken in Amalfi five years ago. I kept it locked in a safe inside my private estate—a safe only two people knew the combination to.

Me. And Isabella.

"Isabella," I said, rising slowly to my full height. "Why would a stranger's child have a private photograph from my vault?"

"I... I don't know!" Isabella stuttered, her heels clicking backward on the pavement. "She must have stolen it! Elena must be orchestrating a scam!"

"Mama didn't steal it," Lily said, her voice trembling slightly from Isabella's harsh tone. "A bad man with a scar on his neck gave it to Mama last week. He told Mama that if she didn't leave the city forever, he would make the blind man sleep forever."

A scar on his neck.

My mind raced through the hierarchy of my family.