Chapter 2 - The Anatomy of a Trap
Z
The foyer of the Bay Ridge townhouse smelled faintly of lavender and old paper, a stark contrast to the sharp copper tang of rain and asphalt clinging to my wool coat. Dr. Miriam Keller stood in the archway leading to the living room, her arms crossed inside her blue cardigan. She didn't flinch as Marco stepped through the door behind me, his hand resting conspicuously near the armpit of his jacket.
"You can tell your friend to stop reaching for his piece," Miriam said calmly, her voice bearing the crisp, precise diction of a retired academic. "The only weapons in this house are a few blunt butter knives and a pair of surgical scissors in my medical bag."
"Where is my cousin?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.
"Adrian left an hour ago," she replied. "He said he had a meeting in Midtown with someone named Vincent. He assured me he would return before midnight with the legal documentation."
"Legal documentation for what?" Marco demanded.
Miriam’s eyes drifted toward the ceiling before settling back on me. "For child protective services. Adrian told me you were an unfit guardian. He said Elena was your employee, held against her will, and that the child was being raised in an environment surrounded by organized crime." She paused, studying my face with surgical precision. "He hired me to perform a medical assessment on the girl. To document any sign of trauma or neglect so a emergency court order could be filed by morning."
A cold realization settled in my chest, heavy as lead. Vincent Colombo’s play in Red Hook hadn't been an ambush meant to end in gunfire. It was a distraction designed to draw my soldiers into a turf war, giving Adrian the exact narrative he needed: a bloody mafia feud playing out in the streets, proving to a family court judge that Sofia was in immediate, life-threatening danger.
"He doesn't want her dead," I murmured, the pieces fitting together with terrifying clarity. "He wants her removed. Legally."
If Sofia was removed by the state, my authority within the family would crumble. A Don who couldn't protect a child under his own roof—a Don deemed a liability by the courts—would lose the respect of the captains. Adrian wouldn't have to shoot me. He would simply step into the vacuum created by my perceived incompetence.
"Can I see them?" I asked.
Miriam hesitated, then nodded. "Second floor. End of the hall. Speak softly. Elena has had a traumatic night."
I left Marco in the hallway and climbed the carpeted stairs alone. Each step felt heavier than the last. Miss Rose, the wet cloth doll still tucked inside my coat, pressed against my ribs. I reached the door at the end of the hall and pushed it open inch by inch.
The room was lit only by a small bedside lamp. Elena was sitting on the edge of the mattress, fully clothed, her back rigid. Her hair was pulled into a messy knot, and dark circles shadowed her eyes. In the center of the bed, curled beneath a heavy duvet, was Sofia. Her small chest rose and fell in a steady, peaceful rhythm, one tiny hand clutched around the corner of the pillow.
When the door creaked, Elena flinched, her hands immediately flying to cover the sleeping girl. But when her eyes landed on me, the tension in her posture gave way to a sudden, violent tremor.
"Dominic," she whispered, her voice cracking.
"It's over, Elena," I said quietly, stepping into the room.
She stood up, her balance unsteady. "Adrian... he came to the center. He said you were in danger. He said Colombo was coming to the house and that we had to leave immediately. I didn't know—"
"I know," I interrupted softly. "You did what you had to do to keep her safe."
I unbuttoned my coat and pulled out the small, damp cloth doll. I held it out to her. Elena looked at Miss Rose, then up at me, a sob catching in her throat. She took the doll, pressing it to her chest exactly as I had done for the last three hours.
"He's going to ruin you, isn't he?" she whispered, looking down at Sofia. "Adrian told me what you do. He told me about the money, the shipping lines, the people who disappear."
I stared at her, the brutal truth hanging between us. I couldn't deny it. I couldn't wrap my life in neat lies anymore.
"I am what I am, Elena," I said. "But I have never brought that world near that child. And I never will."
Before she could answer, a soft chime echoed from my pocket. I pulled out my phone. It was an encrypted text from Marco’s secondary device.
Colombo's men just entered the block. Three SUVs. Adrian is with them.
May you like
I looked at Elena, then down at Sofia, who stirred slightly in her sleep, letting out a soft sigh. The time for restraint was over. Vincent Colombo and Adrian had built a brilliant trap, but they had made one fatal error. They thought I would play by the rules of the court.
I turned toward the door and spoke into my lapel mic. "Marco. Tell the men to block both ends of Shore Road. Nobody leaves Bay Ridge tonight."
