Chapter 2 - THE MAFIA BOSS WHO REMEMBERED A PAPER BOAT
Rafferty Cain had not seen that particular fold in twenty years.
Yet he recognized it immediately.
The sharply turned bow.
The uneven little sail.
The tiny crease beneath the center.
Someone had taught him that design when he was a frightened boy at St. Augustine's Children's Home.
A little girl who visited with her mother.
A girl who told him that boats could carry wishes across dark water.
Now a waitress was kneeling beside his staircase while his fiancée smiled at her humiliation.
Rafferty crossed the ballroom.
The music continued for another three seconds.
Then the violinist noticed his expression.
The bow stopped moving.
“Who ordered this woman onto the floor?”
Nobody answered.
Celeste rose gracefully.
“Darling, it's nothing.”
Rafferty didn't look at her.
He knelt in front of Fay.
“Ma'am, can you stand?”
Fay stared at him.
She recognized the man whose engagement everyone had spent the evening celebrating.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then please do.”
She tried.
Pain shot through her knees.
Rafferty offered his hand without touching her.
After a moment, Fay accepted.
He helped her upright.
“Were you injured?”
“Just sore.”
His jaw tightened.
“How long have you been kneeling?”
Fay hesitated.
“I'm not sure.”
Mrs. Odette stepped forward.
“Almost an hour, Mr. Cain.”
A murmur traveled through the room.
Rafferty slowly turned toward Celeste.
“An hour?”
Celeste laughed nervously.
“She spilled wine on a custom-made gown.”
“I didn't,” Fay whispered.
Rafferty heard her.
He looked at Celeste.
“Did anyone actually see her spill it?”
Nobody spoke.
Then a young bartender raised his hand.
“I saw Miss Vanderpool move her own glass, sir.”
Celeste's face drained.
Rafferty turned to Silvano.
“Preserve the security footage. Have the incident documented.”
Then he looked back at Celeste.
“You will apologize.”
Her eyes widened.
“In front of everyone?”
“You humiliated her in front of everyone.”
Celeste stared at him.
“You're choosing a servant over your future wife?”
Rafferty's voice remained quiet.
“I'm choosing the truth.”
Fay stood motionless.
She'd never heard anyone with that much power defend someone like her.
Rafferty picked up the damaged drawing.
He carefully unfolded it.
Two figures.
A bright sun.
And, in one corner, a tiny blue boat.
His hand trembled.
“Who made this?”
“My daughter.”
“How old?”
“Five.”
Rafferty swallowed.
“Who taught her to fold boats this way?”
Fay looked confused.
“I did.”
“Who taught you?”
She hesitated.
“My mother. Marguerite Delacroix.”
The color disappeared from Rafferty's face.
He looked toward Silvano.
“Find out everything you can about St. Augustine's Children's Home.”
Silvano frowned.
“Why?”
Rafferty looked at Fay.
Then whispered something only she could hear.
“Your mother once saved my life.”
But before Fay could answer, Celeste's father approached from the crowd.
He looked at the damaged drawing.
Then at Fay's face.
May you like
And whispered, horrified:
“Marguerite had a daughter?”
