Chapter 1
The private Mafia-owned science museum in Boston was bathed in bright, cinematic lighting that felt remarkably pure. There was no dull yellow tint to muddy the atmosphere; instead, a crisp, natural white light illuminated the vibrant exhibits and the elite guests milling about the hall. The vivid colors of the interactive science displays contrasted sharply with the dark, expensive tailoring of the attendees. Every guest was a white American adult, their fair and rosy skin glowing flawlessly under the immaculate overhead lights. The evening donor reception was a masterclass in untouchable wealth and raw, hidden power.
At the center of it all was Rocco Moretti. At fifty-five years old, he was deeply masculine, possessing the terrifying, magnetic gravity of a veteran Mafia boss. He wore a tailored dark three-piece suit that fit his broad shoulders to absolute perfection. A crisp dress shirt, a heavy family signet ring, a luxury wristwatch, and polished leather shoes completed the image of a king.
He stood near the rolling educational-equipment cases, speaking in a low, authoritative American accent with Julia Reed, the forty-five-year-old museum director. Julia wore professional formal clothing and sensible heels, her fair, rosy cheeks flushed with nervous excitement as she secured funding from her most dangerous benefactor.
"The new wing is entirely funded, Mr. Moretti," Julia said, her voice trembling slightly with awe. "The children’s interactive exhibits will be unrivaled in the state."
"See that the construction stays on schedule, Julia," Rocco replied, his voice a low, gravelly hum. "I expect perfection when my name is attached to a foundation."
Across the vast exhibit hall, away from Rocco's immediate gaze, the atmosphere was far less charitable.
Four-year-old Mia Moretti, Rocco’s daughter, stood near a lightweight kinetic-orbit display. She was a beautiful child with a fair, rosy complexion, wearing an elegant child’s reception dress, a soft cardigan, and tiny flats. Resting on the bridge of her nose was a pair of thick prescription eyeglasses.
Looming over her was Celeste Vaughn. At thirty-six, Rocco’s fiancée was stunningly elegant, wearing a formal gown that hugged her figure, an enormous diamond engagement ring, matching earrings, a bracelet, and sharp designer heels. Yet, beneath her flawless, rosy skin lay a heart of pure venom.
"I told you to stay out of sight," Celeste hissed, her American accent dripping with malice as she backed the four-year-old into a corner.
"I just wanted to look at the planets, Celeste," Mia whispered, her blue eyes wide behind her lenses. "Daddy said I could."
"Your father isn't looking at you right now," Celeste snapped, her eyes narrowing into cold slits.
Without warning, Celeste raised her hand and violently slapped Mia across the face. The sharp, sickening crack was muffled by the ambient chatter of the gala.
Before the child could even cry out, Celeste snatched the prescription eyeglasses right off Mia's small face. With a vicious, calculated stomp, she drove her designer heel directly into the center of the frames, crushing the glass and twisting the metal into the carpet.
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Mia gasped, dropping to her knees beside the broken frames, her tiny hands covering her stinging, rosy cheek. She looked up, her vision instantly blurred.
"You see far too much," Celeste said, her voice quietly vicious. "Learn to keep your eyes shut, you little brat."
