Within thirty minutes, limousines were disappearing through the iron gates. No one argued. Not senators. Not celebrities. Not men who normally believed money made rules optional. Ethan went upstairs with Dr. Harris. Lily refused to leave. “I want Ethan.” “He's resting,” I told her. “I have to see him.” “Tomorrow.” She looked at Dominic. “You promise?” For the first time that night, something almost gentle touched his face. “I promise.” She considered him carefully. “Pinky promise?” A security guard actually coughed to hide a laugh. Dominic Moretti stared at my daughter's raised pinky finger. Then he hooked his own around it. “Pinky promise.” Satisfied, Lily let me carry her toward the staff wing. I had almost reached the doorway when I stopped. “Mr. Moretti?” Dominic turned. “Sir… I'm sorry she caused a scene.” His expression hardened. For a terrible second, I thought I had said the wrong thing. Then he walked closer. “Your daughter saved my son's life.” I swallowed. “She just saw something.” “Everyone in this house saw something tonight.” His gaze moved toward his security men. “She's the only one who understood it mattered.” I looked down. “Still—” “Anna.” I froze. In six years, Dominic had rarely used my first name. “Never apologize to me for what Lily did again.” His voice was low but absolute. I nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I carried my daughter away. But sleep never came. From my small apartment in the staff wing, I heard footsteps crossing corridors until sunrise. Security officers questioned cooks. Camera recordings were examined. Deliveries were checked. Every door sensor was reviewed. At 2:13 in the morning, Lily rolled toward me beneath the blanket. “Mommy?” “Yes?” “The man was mad.” My eyes opened. “What?” “The cake man.” I sat up. “What do you mean?” “He saw me.” My heart stopped. Lily rubbed her eyes. “When?” “When he put the white stuff.” “And what happened?” “He looked at me.” “What did he say?” Lily became quiet. “Sweetheart, tell Mommy.” “He said…” She swallowed. “Little girls should forget things.” Cold spread through every inch of my body. “Did he come near you?” She shook her head. “He smiled.” “What did he look like?” “Like the party.” I frowned. “What does that mean?” “He had the same clothes.” A tuxedo. He hadn't been kitchen staff. He had been dressed as a guest. Which meant whoever had tried to kill Ethan might still have been standing beneath those chandeliers when Lily smashed the plate.