Dominic stopped outside my ICU room.

For several seconds, he simply stared through the glᴀss.

I was lying beneath a white hospital blanket, surrounded by machines, tubes, and monitors. My face was pale. My lips were almost colorless. Seven bullets had entered my body, and the surgeons had managed to remove only some of them.

The remaining fragments were dangerously close to vital organs.

A doctor had told him there was a chance I would never wake up.

Another had warned that even if I survived, my heart might not withstand another operation.

But Dominic Rossi had never been a man who accepted an answer he didn’t like.

“Get the priest,” he repeated.

Enzo looked at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“Boss, listen to me. She’s unconscious. She can’t even understand what’s happening.”

“I heard you.”

“Then explain what you’re doing.”

Dominic looked through the glᴀss again.

“I’m making sure nobody can take her away from me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Dominic finally turned.

“Victor Costa has already put a price on her head. If she wakes up, she’ll be hunted. If she dies, I’ll spend the rest of my life knowing I failed to protect the woman who saved my mother.”

Enzo lowered his voice.

“And what about the file?”

Dominic’s expression hardened.

“Not now.”

“Boss, she deserves to know.”

“She’ll know when she’s strong enough to hear it.”

Enzo shook his head.

“You’re about to marry a woman who doesn’t even know your last name carries a death sentence.”

Dominic glanced at the ring in his palm.

“Then I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets wearing it.”

Three hours later, I was still unconscious when the priest entered my hospital room.

Isabella stood beside the bed, crying silently.

She had changed out of her evening gown and was wearing a simple black coat. There was a small bandage near her temple from where she’d struck the marble floor.

Dominic stood on my other side.

He wore the same midnight tuxedo he’d worn at the H๏τel.

There was blood on his cuff.

My blood.

The priest looked uncomfortable.

“Mr. Rossi, are you certain?”

Dominic didn’t hesitate.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.”

The ceremony was quiet.

No guests.

No music.

No flowers.

Just a priest, Isabella, Enzo, two witnesses, and a woman who couldn’t open her eyes.

Dominic took my swollen hand carefully.

The gold ring looked enormous against my hospital bracelet.

He slipped it onto my finger.

Then he leaned close enough that only the people in the room could hear him.

“Anybody who comes for you comes through me.”

His voice cracked slightly.

“You hear me, sweetheart? You’re not alone anymore.”

The priest finished the final words.

And Dominic Rossi became my husband.

But there was one person who wasn’t celebrating.

Enzo.

Because he knew the marriage had not begun with the first bullet.

It had begun five years earlier.

I woke up two days later.

At first, I thought I was drowning.

My chest hurt.

My throat burned.

Something beeped beside my head, and a bright hospital light stabbed through my eyelids.

I tried to move.

Pain exploded through my body.

A nurse immediately appeared.

“Don’t move! You’re in the hospital.”

I tried to speak, but my throat produced only a weak sound.

“Easy, sweetheart. You’ve been through surgery.”

I blinked.

Then I remembered.

The ballroom.

The gun.

Isabella.

The shooting.

I tried to sit up.

“My… mother…”

The nurse leaned closer.

“Your mother?”

I nodded desperately.

“Cleveland…”

She checked my chart.

“Are you talking about Ellen?”

My eyes filled with tears.

The nurse smiled.

“Yes. She’s safe. Someone contacted the treatment center and arranged for her care to continue without interruption.”

I closed my eyes.

Relief washed over me.

Then I remembered something else.

“Isabella?”

The nurse looked surprised.

“Mrs. Rossi is fine. She visits every day.”

Mrs. Rossi.

I frowned.

Before I could ask anything, the door opened.

A tall man entered wearing a black suit.

Dark hair.

Sharp jaw.

Eyes that seemed capable of making an entire room go silent.

I recognized him immediately.

The man who had caught my champagne glᴀss.

Dominic Rossi.

He stopped beside my bed.

“Welcome back.”

I tried to speak.

He immediately reached for the water.

“Slowly.”

After helping me take a small sip, he pulled a chair closer.

I stared at him.

“Your… mother?”

“Alive. Completely unharmed.”

I exhaled.

“Good.”

He looked at me for a long moment.

Then his eyes dropped to my hand.

I followed his gaze.

A gold ring.

My heart began racing.

“What… is that?”

Dominic said nothing.

I lifted my trembling hand.

The ring was real.

It wasn’t a hospital bracelet.

It wasn’t a piece of jewelry someone had placed there by accident.

It was a wedding ring.

I looked at him.

Then at the ring.

Then back at him.

“Why am I wearing a wedding ring?”

Dominic leaned forward.

“Because I married you.”

For several seconds, I couldn’t process the words.

Then I whispered:

“You did WHAT?”

The heart monitor started beeping faster.

A nurse hurried into the room.

“Mr. Rossi, please step back. She’s becoming distressed.”

Dominic immediately stood.

“I’ll wait outside.”

“No!”

The word escaped my mouth before I could think.

He stopped.

I looked at him desperately.

“Don’t leave.”

His expression softened.

He sat back down.

The nurse checked my blood pressure and adjusted the medication.

“Your body needs rest. We can discuss everything when you’re stronger.”

But I couldn’t stop staring at the ring.

“Did I… agree to this?”

Dominic’s jaw тιԍнтened.

“You were unconscious.”

“Then how can you say we’re married?”

He looked at me.

“Because I made the decision.”

“That isn’t the same thing!”

The monitor beeped again.

He lowered his voice.

“I know.”

I stared at him.

“You don’t get to decide my life just because you saved it.”

Something flickered across his face.

Then he nodded.

“You’re right.”

I hadn’t expected that answer.

He continued.

“I won’t ask you to pretend you wanted this. I won’t ask you to love me. And if you decide you want the marriage annulled when you’re medically cleared, I’ll make sure nobody stands in your way.”

I looked at him suspiciously.

“Then why did you do it?”

He glanced toward the door.

“Because the people who sH๏τ you aren’t finished.”

My stomach тιԍнтened.

“What?”

He leaned closer.

“The man who attacked my mother works for Victor Costa. He knows you survived. And he knows you were the reason his plan failed.”

I remembered the gun.

The blood.

The screaming.

“Why would they come after me?”

“Because you saw his face.”

“I couldn’t even see properly!”

“They don’t know that.”

I swallowed.

“Then call the police.”

Dominic didn’t answer immediately.

And that was when I noticed something.

The two men standing outside my room weren’t hospital security.

They were armed.

One had a tattoo disappearing beneath his collar.

The other had a scar running along his jaw.

I looked back at Dominic.

“Who exactly are you?”

He held my gaze.

“Dominic Rossi.”

“I know your name.”

“Then you know enough to understand why those men are here.”

My fingers тιԍнтened around the blanket.

I had heard the name Rossi before.

Everyone in New York had.

The Rossi family controlled businesses, warehouses, nightclubs, and shipping operations across the city.

And people whispered that Dominic was responsible for things nobody dared discuss aloud.

I looked at my wedding ring.

Then at him.

“Oh, my God.”

He didn’t deny anything.

That evening, Isabella visited.

She entered carrying a small bouquet of white roses.

The moment she saw my eyes open, she rushed toward me.

“Oh, sweetheart!”

She carefully hugged my shoulders, avoiding the bandages.

I managed a weak smile.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

She kissed my forehead.

“Because of you.”

Then she noticed my expression.

“Dominic told you?”

I nodded.

She sighed.

“Please don’t hate him.”

I looked at her.

“Mrs. Rossi, with all due respect, your son married me while I was unconscious.”

Isabella closed her eyes.

“I know.”

“Without asking me.”

“I know.”

“Does everyone in this family make decisions like that?”

She almost smiled.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

Then her expression became serious.

“Dominic is not an easy man, sweetheart. He has spent most of his life believing that caring about someone gives other people a weapon to hurt him.”

I looked toward the window.

“Then he shouldn’t have married a stranger.”

Isabella took my hand.

“You weren’t a stranger to him.”

I turned.

“What do you mean?”

She hesitated.

Then she reached into her handbag and removed an old pH๏τograph.

It showed a little girl standing beside an elderly woman outside a small bakery.

I recognized the woman immediately.

My grandmother.

My breath caught.

“Where did you get that?”

Isabella sat down.

“Your grandmother saved my life twenty-one years ago.”

I stared at her.

“What?”

She looked at the pH๏τograph.

“Before Dominic became the man everyone fears, his father was involved in a terrible business dispute. One night, I was attacked while traveling through Ohio. I was injured and left outside a small town.”

She paused.

“Your grandmother found me.”

I couldn’t speak.

“She took me into her home. She treated my injuries, fed me, and hid me until I was safe. She never asked for money. She never asked who I was.”

My eyes filled.

“That sounds like her.”

Isabella smiled sadly.

“She told me something before I left. She said that one day, if I ever met her granddaughter, I should remember that kindness runs in the family.”

I looked down at the pH๏τograph.

My grandmother had never told me.

Not once.

“Why didn’t you recognize me at the H๏τel?”

Isabella touched my cheek.

“I did.”

I stared at her.

“You recognized me?”

She nodded.

“The moment I saw your face, I remembered that little girl.”

My heart began pounding.

“And Dominic?”

Isabella looked toward the door.

“He knew before you ever walked into that ballroom.”

I didn’t sleep that night.

Not because of the pain.

Not because of the machines.

Because of the file.

Dominic had known something about me before the shooting.

Enzo had warned him that I would never forgive him.

And now Isabella was telling me that my grandmother had saved her life twenty-one years earlier.

What else had they hidden?

At approximately 2:15 in the morning, I heard voices outside my room.

I recognized Dominic immediately.

“Tell me what you found.”

Enzo answered.

“The Costa men have been moving through Cleveland. Someone contacted Ellen’s treatment center yesterday.”

My entire body went cold.

My mother.

Dominic’s voice dropped.

“Was she threatened?”

“Not directly. But someone asked the staff for her room number and discharge schedule.”

I tried to move.

Pain sH๏τ through my chest.

But I forced myself to listen.

Enzo continued.

“There’s something else. The file from five years ago wasn’t supposed to be in your personal records. Your father had it transferred before he died.”

Silence.

Then Dominic spoke.

“My father knew?”

“Yes.”

“Knew what?”

Enzo hesitated.

“That Ellen Bennett’s daughter was the girl your grandmother had been searching for.”

I stopped breathing.

Ellen Bennett.

My mother.

My grandmother’s search.

The file.

Then Enzo said the words that shattered everything I thought I knew.

“Boss, Nora isn’t just the granddaughter of the woman who saved your mother.”

A pause.

“She’s the biological daughter of the man who once saved your father—and the only living heir to the Rossi family’s original bloodline.”

I stared at the ceiling.

No.

That couldn’t be true.

My mother had raised me alone.

She had told me my father died before I was born.

I had never known his name.

And now, apparently, the man who had married me was connected to a secret about my own idenтιтy.

The door opened.

Dominic entered.

He stopped when he saw my eyes.

He knew immediately that I had heard everything.

“Nora…”

I looked at him.

My voice was barely audible.

“Who was my father?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he pulled the chair beside my bed closer.

And for the first time since I’d met him, Dominic Rossi looked genuinely afraid.

“Your father,” he whispered, “was my older brother.”

The room seemed to tilt.

I stared at him.

Then at the wedding ring.

Then back at his face.

“Then what does that make us?”

Dominic lowered his head.

Before he could answer, my phone rang.

It was the treatment center in Cleveland.

I answered with trembling fingers.

A nurse’s voice came through.

“Ms. Bennett, I’m sorry to disturb you. Your mother has regained consciousness.”

I began crying.

“Can I speak to her?”

There was a brief silence.

Then the nurse said:

“There’s something you need to know first. Your mother has been asking for Dominic Rossi.”

I looked at him.

His face turned pale.

And then the nurse added:

“She says he must not tell you who your father really was.”

END OF PART 2.