Atlas stood over Damen Romano's body with his teeth bared, and fourteen armed men would not take one step closer. The dog had been bred to fight. In five years he had learned to trust exactly one human being, and that man was dying on the study floor with a poisoned cup cooling six feet away. I was not a detective. I was the maid who polished the cedar. But my six-year-old daughter had slipped past my hand and into that room, and she was already walking toward him. She was humming. I did not know yet that the song had a name — or whose it was.

I stared at the empty glass vial in Anthony's hand, feeling the absolute freezing dread settle heavily into my stomach.

I had never seen that horrible little bottle in my entire life, but it was undeniably pulled straight from my own cleaning cart.

"Someone else planted that vial in my apron to frame me," I stated firmly, pulling Ellie closer to my side.

Anthony shook his head in disgust, raising his heavy weapon once again with renewed, lethal determination.

"You are the only person who has entered this private study in the last three hours," Anthony countered logically.

Before he could take another threatening step forward, Damen Romano let out a harsh, agonizing cough from the floor.

The mafia boss weakly pushed himself up onto his trembling elbows, his expensive white shirt completely ruined.

"Put the damn gun down, Anthony," Damen croaked, his voice entirely raw and damaged from the harsh chemicals.

Anthony immediately froze, looking completely torn between following his dying boss's orders and protecting him from a perceived assassin.

"Sir, we found the poison vial completely hidden inside her cleaning supplies," Anthony protested loudly.

Damen slowly wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, locking his intense, dark eyes entirely on me.

"If she wanted me dead, she absolutely would not have used my mother's secret lullaby to calm the dog," Damen explained weakly.

I felt a sudden, violent jolt of shock rush through my entire nervous system at his impossible words.

I had never told a single living soul where I learned that song, mainly because my own childhood memories were a complete, fragmented blur.

"Who exactly are you, Damen?" I demanded, my voice shaking with a terrifying mixture of anger and absolute confusion.

Damen tried to stand up, but his weakened legs violently gave out, forcing him to heavily lean against the mahogany desk.

He painfully reached up and pressed a hidden button located underneath the thick wooden rim of his desk.

A heavy, reinforced steel panel suddenly slammed forcefully down over the study's only window, locking us completely inside.

"I am the only person in this entire world who actually knows your real name," Damen confessed quietly.

Before he could explain anything else, a thick, acrid gray smoke began forcefully pouring out of the overhead ventilation ducts.

The heavy oak doors of the study loudly clicked shut, the electronic deadbolts locking violently from the outside.

Someone in the security room had deliberately triggered the estate's emergency lockdown protocol to permanently seal us in.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

"They aren't just trying to kill me anymore," Damen coughed violently as the toxic smoke rapidly filled the enclosed space.

Anthony rushed desperately to the heavy doors, violently slamming his massive shoulder against the thick oak, but it absolutely refused to budge.

Chapter 3 - The Frame Job