Chapter 1
The most feared mafia boss in New York pretended to sleep because he suspected his new maid was hiding something from him. But instead of catching her stealing or betraying him, I felt her little daughter cover me with a blanket and whisper six words that shattered the one belief keeping me alive.
My name is Daniel Hale, and at thirty-four, men twice my age lowered their voices when they said my name.
The newspapers called me a businessman.
The police called me untouchable.
The men who worked for me simply called me Boss.
They were all partly right.
I controlled clubs, warehouses, construction companies, and enough legitimate businesses to make accountants stop asking where the money began. I lived behind iron gates in a stone estate outside New York City, protected by cameras, armed guards, and men who would kill for me.
At least, that's what they were paid to do.
I'd learned young that loyalty always had a price.
When I was six, my mother died.
My father didn't hug me at the funeral. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me something I never forgot.
"Never let anyone see what can hurt you."
So I didn't.
By eight, I stopped crying.
By twelve, I stopped asking anyone to stay.
By thirty, I had enough money to buy almost anything and enough enemies to understand that affection could be more dangerous than hatred.
Then my closest lieutenant betrayed me.
Vincent Russo had eaten at my table for eleven years. I'd paid for his mother's surgery. I made him godfather to my nephew.
And for eighteen months, he'd been secretly feeding information to a rival family.
Three of my men ended up dead.
After Vincent, I trusted no one.
Then Maria Torres entered my house.
She was thirty-two, quiet, careful, and recently hired to supervise the household staff.
What bothered me was that she wanted nothing from me.
No favors.
No extra money.
No curious questions about the locked rooms downstairs.
She simply worked.
Sometimes, however, Maria brought her four-year-old daughter, Sofia, when her babysitter canceled.
I hated it.
Children didn't belong in my world.
Then one rainy night, I decided to test Maria.
I sat alone in the living room and pretended to fall asleep, leaving my phone, wallet, and a thick envelope of cash deliberately exposed on the table.
Minutes passed.
Then I heard tiny footsteps.
Not Maria's.
Sofia's.
I kept my eyes closed.
She approached me slowly.
I felt something warm being pulled over my chest.
A blanket.
Then her tiny hand touched my shoulder.
"Don't be cold, Mr. Daniel," she whispered. "My daddy was cold before he died."
My chest tightened.
But she wasn't finished.
"Mommy says nobody should be alone."
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
I'd spent my entire life believing people only came close when they wanted something.
Yet this child had walked past my money without even looking at it.
She had seen only a man sleeping alone.
And for the first time since I was six years old, I opened my eyes with tears already running down my face.
Sofia froze.
And from the doorway behind her, Maria whispered my name.
Not "Mr. Hale."
Daniel.
May you like
The look on her face told me there was something about Sofia's dead father I didn't know.
Something she had been terrified I would discover.
