A Barefoot Toddler Walked Past Thirty-Eight Guards and Fell Asleep on a Mafia Boss — Then Her Rabbit's Watch Reopened His Father's Grave

Back at the manor, the east wing was locked down under heavy guard. Damian returned to find Mia sitting on Elena’s lap in the kitchen, eating warm broth from a silver spoon. Her feet had been cleaned, her hair brushed back to reveal delicate features that unmistakably mirrored the Romano lineage.

As Damian entered, she set down the spoon. "Did you find Grandpa?"

Damian knelt beside the chair, resting his forearms on his knees. For the first time in his adult life, he intentionally softened the line of his mouth. "Not yet, Mia. But I know where he is. I’m going to bring him home."

She looked at him with an ancient, solemn seriousness. She reached out and touched the scar along his jawline with one warm finger. "Grandpa said you have the same face. He said you carry a big stone in your chest, but it beats just like his."

Damian swallowed the knot in his throat. He gently took her small hand. "Did Grandpa tell you what Marco looked like?"

Mia’s brow furrowed. "The loud man with the gold teeth. He brought the black bags yesterday. He yelled at Grandpa. Grandpa made me hide in the water pipe under the wood."

"Gold teeth," Luca muttered from the hallway. "Marco Varga. Corrado’s enforcer at the Schuylkill rail yard."

Damian stood, his expression transforming back into the cold mask of the man who ruled the city's underworld. "Elena, take her to the safe room beneath the wine cellar. Put four men at the door. If anyone approaches without my clearance, shoot through the wood."

"Yes, Don Damian," Elena said, her eyes glistening.

Damian turned to Luca. "Mobilize the inner circle. Every rifle, every van. We leave Corrado with the interrogation team. We hit the rail yard in twenty minutes."

"And if Anthony is already..." Luca trailed off.