Chapter 4 - The Missing Piece
The private elevator opened directly into the foyer of the penthouse.
The space was a masterpiece of minimalist luxury: polished concrete floors, floor-to-ceiling glass walls, abstract art that cost more than a suburban home, and absolute, sterile quiet.
Except right now, it wasn't quiet.
"I want my doll! Where is it? Give it back!"
Sophia's voice echoed off the concrete walls, sharp and desperate, laced with a panic that had nothing to do with her new surroundings and everything to do with the fact that her only anchor to the world had vanished.
Dominic strode out of the elevator. Victor was standing awkwardly in the hallway outside the guest suite, looking like a bomb squad tech who had cut the wrong wire. Inside the room, a nurse was trying to soothe the girl, but Sophia was thrashing against the sheets, her gray-blue eyes wild, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.
"Sophia," Dominic said, his voice cutting through the noise with the authority of a general on a battlefield.
The girl stopped thrashing instantly. Her head snapped toward the doorway. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, her small fists clenched into tight balls against the white duvet.
"You took it," she whispered, her voice trembling with betrayal. "You took my doll."
Dominic walked slowly into the room, keeping his movements deliberate, non-threatening. He raised his empty hands to show her he meant no harm. "I didn't take it, Sophia. I put it on the table downstairs so we could get your brother settled. It should still be there."
"It's not!" she cried, her voice cracking. "I went down to look when I woke up. The table is empty! Someone took it!"
Dominic's eyes narrowed. He looked past Sophia at Victor, who had followed him into the room. Victor's face went pale, his professional composure cracking for a fraction of a second.
"Boss," Victor said, his hand sliding inside his jacket toward his holster. "Nobody came through the front door. The security logs show zero entries since we arrived at sunrise."
"Then how did it disappear?" Dominic asked, his voice chilling the room.
Before Victor could answer, a low, guttural growl came from the direction of the open terrace doors leading to the wraparound balcony.
Dominic didn't hesitate. He stepped in front of the bed, putting his body between the children and the doorway, his hand sliding under his left armpit where his custom Sig Sauer rested in its leather holster.
A shadow detached itself from the balcony curtains.
A large, mangy, half-starved stray dog — a scarred brindle mix of pit bull and shepherd — stepped cautiously into the room. Its ribs showed clearly beneath its patchy coat, and its left ear was torn. In its jaws, clutched gently between bloody, powerful teeth, was the red-yarn-haired doll with the mismatched button eyes.
Sophia gasped. For a second, Dominic thought she was going to scream in terror at the beast.
Instead, the girl scrambled to her knees on the bed, her face lighting up with tear-streaked relief. "Barnaby!" she cried out.
The dog didn't growl. It dropped the doll carefully onto the edge of the rug, gave a low, rumpathetic whine, and trotted over to the side of the bed, resting its heavy chin right on the mattress beside Sophia's hand.
Sophia threw her arms around the dog's massive, scarred neck, burying her face in its dirty fur. "You found us. Oh, Barnaby, you found us."
Victor stared in utter disbelief, his hand slowly coming away from his gun. "Are you kidding me? A stray mutt bypassed our perimeter security, scaled a fifty-story glass balcony from the fire escape outside, just to return a rag doll?"
Dominic stared at the dog, then down at the doll lying on the rug. The doll was slightly damp around the left arm where the dog had carried it, but otherwise intact.
He slowly let go of his weapon, exhaling a long, slow breath.
"He followed us," Dominic said quietly, realization dawning. "When we loaded you into the car last night, this dog was in the alley, wasn't he?"
Sophia nodded, stroking the dog's torn ear. "He lived with us behind the crates. He shared our bread. When the men in black coats took Luca into the car, Barnaby ran down the street after us. I thought he got lost in the rain."
Victor looked at Dominic, raising an eyebrow. "Well, Boss. Looks like we didn't just adopt two orphans. We adopted a watchdog with elite parkour skills."
Dominic walked over, picked up the doll from the floor, and dusted it off with his thumb. He looked at the mismatched button eyes, then at the girl who was now feeding pieces of dry toast from her breakfast tray to the scruffy beast.
Something in Dominic's chest shifted again — not a crack this time, but a foundation settling into place. A realization that the world he thought he controlled was full of variables he could never calculate.
"Victor," Dominic said, handing the doll back to Sophia, who clutched it to her chest like a shield.
"Boss?"
"Call the vet. Get this dog cleaned, vaccinated, and fed. And call the contractor."
May you like
Victor blinked. "Which contractor?"
"The one who installs reinforced glass on the balconies. Apparently, fifty stories up isn't high enough to keep our family safe."
