CHAPTER 1 — THE LOCKET THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
Dominic Moretti didn’t move for a full ten seconds.
The silver locket sat in his palm like something alive.
Old.
Scratched.
Impossible.
Around him, the Meridian Room had changed temperature without anyone touching the thermostat.
No one spoke.
Even the pianist had stopped.
Lily’s tiny fingers still clung to Dominic’s sleeve like she was afraid gravity itself would take her away if she let go.
“Where did your mother get this?” Dominic asked.
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that meant violence was being delayed, not denied.
Lily sniffled.
“From Grandma,” she whispered. “Before she died.”
Dominic’s chest tightened.
“Your grandmother’s name?”
“Ellen Hart.”
The name meant nothing to anyone else in the room.
But Dominic felt it hit something buried deep inside his memory.
A file.
A photograph.
A woman standing behind Rose at a charity event in 1963.
Same smile.
Same eyes.
Same star-shaped locket.
Dominic slowly closed his fist around the jewelry.
“Who hurt your mother?” he asked.
Lily’s voice trembled.
“The men from the Harbor Crew.”
The room shifted again.
That name did mean something.
Even here.
Even in Boston’s most controlled dining room.
The Harbor Crew were not an organization.
They were what happened when order stopped caring about rules.
Young.
Violent.
Unstable.
A new generation of criminals who didn’t respect old names.
Even Moretti names.
Dominic stood.
The entire room stood with him.
“I want her brought here,” he said.
One of his men hesitated.
“Boss… now?”
Dominic looked at him.
The man stopped breathing mid-sentence.
“Yes,” Dominic said. “Now.”
He looked down at Lily.
“You’re coming with me.”
Her eyes widened.
“Will you help my mama?”
Dominic didn’t answer immediately.
Because the truth was complicated.
And Dominic Moretti had built an empire on simple answers.
But something about the locket made complexity irrelevant.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I will.”
Lily nodded like she didn’t fully understand, but trusted him anyway.
That trust should have scared him more than anything.
Instead, it angered him.
Because children should not trust men like him.
They should survive them.
Not believe in them.
Dominic turned toward his men.
“Clear the car.”
Then paused.
“One more thing.”
He looked at the locket again.
“Find out who knows Rose is dead.”
The room went cold.
May you like
Because Dominic Moretti never asked questions like that unless he already suspected the answer.
And suspects in Dominic Moretti’s world rarely stayed alive long enough to explain themselves.
