Chapter 3 - The Ghost of June Rose
The bedroom they gave her was larger than the entire apartment she had shared with the Keenes in the industrial districts of Elizabeth. The walls were lined with silk wallpaper, the bed was a massive canopy of cream-colored linen, and the windows opened out onto a private balcony where the scent of blooming white roses drifted in on the evening breeze.
But Harper couldn't sleep. She sat on the edge of the mattress, still wearing the black thrift-store dress, her fingers tracing the crescent scar behind her left ear.
Who am I? she asked herself, the silence of the room offering no answer. Am I Harper Keene, the girl who dropped out of community college to work two retail jobs to keep her father from getting his legs broken? Or am I June Rose Vale, the daughter of a billionaire mafia don?
A soft knock came at the door. It didn't sound like a command; it sounded like an invitation.
"Come in," she said, her voice small.
The door pushed open, and Dominic stepped inside. He had removed his suit jacket, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, muscular forearms marked by old, faded scars. He carried a silver tray with a porcelain teapot and two cups.
"Rosa told me you hadn't eaten anything since you arrived," Dominic said, setting the tray down on a small marble table near the balcony doors. "I brought some chamomile tea. It helps with the shock."
"Thank you," Harper whispered, watching him carefully. She was still waiting for the monster to appear. She had seen the way his men looked at him—with an absolute, unquestioning terror. Yet, in front of her, his movements were cautious, almost fragile.
Dominic sat in one of the velvet armchairs, pouring the tea with a steady hand. He pushed a cup toward her. "You don't have to be afraid of me, June. I know what they say about me in the city. Most of it is true. But to you, I am just a father who has been waiting half his life to bring his daughter home."
"Why did they call me Harper?" she asked suddenly, her fingers tightening around her knees.
Dominic stared into his tea, his jaw tightening. "The day you were taken from the Saint Gerard Hospital, the local newspapers ran a front-page story about the 'Vale Baby Kidnapping.' The lead detective on the case was a corrupt cop named Harper. He was on the Lucchese family’s payroll. He deliberately botched the investigation, misdirecting my men to buy the Keenes time to disappear. I assume Daniel and Marlene named you after him as a sick, private joke."
A cold shudder ran down Harper’s spine. Every time her mother had yelled her name across the kitchen, she had been honoring the man who had ensured she would never be found.
"Your real name is June Rose," Dominic said, looking up, his eyes burning with a quiet intensity. "June after the month your mother and I met on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. Rose after her grandmother. You were born at 3:14 in the morning, and for exactly twenty minutes, I held you in my arms before the alarm went off in the north wing."
"What happened to my mother?" Harper asked, her voice barely a breath.
Dominic’s face darkened, the deep-seated sorrow of twenty-four years bleeding into his eyes. "Her name was Isabella. She was the only clean thing in my life. The Lucchese family wanted to send me a message about a shipping territory. They paid a orderly to cut the power to the maternity ward. In the confusion, a gunman entered her room. She died protecting your crib, June. She took three bullets to ensure you were still breathing when they walked in."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tiny silver key, placing it on the table between them.
"The locket belonged to her grandmother," Dominic said. "I gave it to Isabella on our first anniversary. When she was dying, she slipped it around your neck before the nurses found her. The Keenes didn't take it off because they couldn't open it without the key, and they were afraid that if they tried to cut it off, they would damage the gold and lose its value."
Harper picked up the key. It was light, cool against her palm. She looked at the man sitting across from her—this dangerous, untouchable figure who was completely unraveled by the memory of a woman who had been gone for two decades.
"I don't know how to be June Rose," she admitted, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "I only know how to be Harper. I only know how to keep my head down and wait for the shouting to start."
May you like
Dominic stood up, walking over to her bed. He didn't touch her, respecting her boundaries, but he knelt down so he was at eye level with her.
"You don't ever have to keep your head down again," he said, his voice fierce with a protective rage that made her feel safe for the first time in her life. "You are a Vale. This city belongs to you now. And anyone who ever made you feel small will answer to me."
