His Wife Was Wheeled Past in Silence—While He Stood There Holding Another Woman’s Hand

A heavy knock sounded at the front door of the estate, breaking the quiet afternoon.

Minutes later, Mateo walked into the conservatory, his expression tense. "Dom, we have a situation. Clara's father is at the gate."

Dominic stood up immediately.

Antonio Lombardi was the head of the Lombardi syndicate in Detroit—a brutal, old-school mafia Don who had only agreed to the alliance with the Valente family because of his deep respect for Dominic’s late father. Antonio had arrived with four armored vehicles filled with dark-suited soldiers.

Dominic walked out onto the grand portico as Antonio Lombardi stepped out of his limousine.

Antonio was sixty-five, with pure silver hair, a scarred face, and eyes like cold flint. He walked up the stone steps, leaning heavily on a silver-topped cane.

"Dominic," Antonio rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones.

"Antonio," Dominic greeted, bowing his head respectfully. "Welcome to Lake Forest."

Slap!

Without a word of warning, Antonio struck Dominic across the face with his open palm.

The force of the blow echoed across the driveway. Dominic’s head snapped sideways, a red mark blooming on his cheek, but he didn't raise a hand. He stood straight, taking the hit in absolute silence.

Mateo and the Valente guards instantly reached for their weapons, but Dominic raised a hand, stopping them.

"Stand down!" Dominic ordered his men harshly.

Antonio pointed his heavy cane at Dominic’s chest, his eyes burning with a furious, old-world rage.

"I gave you my daughter!" Antonio roared, his voice shaking the heavy oak doors of the entrance. "I gave you the purest thing in my family to solidify peace between our bloodlines! And you dragged her name through the mud with street harlots until she almost died in a South Side gutter!"