Chapter 1 - The Touch of a Ghost
The silver dust tray hit the marble floor with a deafening crash.
Mara felt the blood drain completely from her face.
Every maid, guard, and driver in Baltimore knew the cardinal rule of Grayhaven House.
You never opened Damian Volkov’s door.
He was a ruthless mob boss whose empire spanned shipping docks, underground casinos, and politicians’ pockets.
Six months ago, someone poured rare slow-acting neurotoxin into his vintage scotch.
Now, he was dying a slow, agonizing death behind locked cedar doors.
He had fired seven certified private nurses in three weeks.
He threw medicine trays at the wall and threatened to break the legs of anyone who dared look at him with pity.
Yet right now, four-year-old Lila was sitting on his bed in her mud-stained yellow rain boots.
Her tiny fingers were pressed firmly against the left side of his chest.
The pink casing of her hearing aid gleamed softly in the gloomy morning rainlight.
Lila was completely deaf without it, and even with it, she understood the world through vibrations rather than words.
She felt the stuttering, agonizing beat of his damaged heart beneath his damp white linen shirt.
Mara fell to her knees at the edge of the threshold, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
"Please, Mr. Volkov, please don't hurt her!" Mara choked out, tears burning her eyes.
"She doesn't know who you are.
She got lost looking for me.
Take my pay, throw me in the streets, just please let me take my baby."
Damian didn’t yell.
He didn't reach for the silver bell to summon his armed security detail.
His dark eyes, hollowed out by months of fever and unbearable torment, were locked onto the little girl's face.
Lila tilted her head, her uneven brown braids brushing against her shoulders.
She didn't flinch from his murderous reputation or his hollow, terrifying glare.
She took her index finger, tapped his chest twice, and then tapped her own chest twice.
Then she gave him a small, reassuring nod, as if to say she knew how much it hurt.
A strange, shuddering breath escaped Damian’s cracked lips.
For the first time in half a year, the vicious tremor in his left arm began to still.
He raised his calloused, tattooed hand with agonizing slowness.
Mara held her breath, ready to throw her body over her child if he struck.
Instead, Damian’s heavy fingers gently wrapped around Lila's tiny wrist, keeping her palm anchored against his skin.
"The head nurse," Damian rasped, his voice raw like rusted iron.
"Fire her right now."
Mara blinked through her tears, completely bewildered.
"Sir?"
"Get her out of my house," Damian commanded, his gaze never leaving Lila's calm brown eyes.
"And move your things from the servants’ basement into the second-floor guest suite.
From today on, this child stays in this room whenever the pain returns."
Mara scrambled forward and swept Lila into her arms, whispering desperate thank-yous as she backed out of the room.
She hurried down the dark hallway, her heart pounding violently against her ribs.
She didn't notice the tall man standing concealed within the shadow of the grand staircase.
It was Viktor Vance, Damian’s fiercely ambitious second-in-command, quietly holding a burner phone to his ear.
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"We have an unexpected complication," Viktor whispered coldly into the receiver.
"Damian found a pulse, and the maid’s brat is the only reason he’s still breathing."
