A Mafia Boss Caught His Executive Assistant Hiding Her Bare Back — Until He Saw the Fingerprints Left by the City’s Miracle Surgeon

The dark wooden door of the private penthouse suite at Moretti Tower swung open as Dominic Moretti stepped inside, searching for his misplaced diamond cufflinks.

In the center of the dimly lit room, Ava, his 20s blonde executive assistant, turned around halfway through adjusting her backless cream silk evening gown. The soft golden light from the crystal chandelier caught her skin, instantly exposing severe dark purple and red bruises spread brutally across her exposed back and shoulders—distinct, horrific handprints pressed deep into her flesh.

"Mr. Moretti... please don’t look at me!" Ava gasping in terror, clutching the front of her cream silk dress tightly against her chest as she stumbled backward against the marble table.

Dominic, built like an iron wall in a tailored black tuxedo over a dark shirt, froze dead in his tracks. He leaned one hand heavily against the dark doorframe, his sharp jaw tightening until the muscle twitched. His dark eyes locked onto the violent purple marks with ice-cold, suppressed rage that made the atmospheric pressure in the penthouse plunge.

"Stairs don’t leave fingerprints, Ava..." Dominic rumbled in a low, intense whisper that cut through the muffled classical music drifting up from the gala below. "...who did this to you?"

Ava turned her shoulders further away, trembling violently as tears welled in her pale blue eyes. Down in the glass-walled penthouse hallway, high-society guests in tailored suits and silk gowns mingled, oblivious to the terrifying storm brewing inside the suite.

"You can’t punish him..." Ava whispered in a shaking, broken voice, pulling her long wavy hair over her shoulder to cover the marks. "He’s too powerful in this city."

Dominic stepped closer, his boots making a deliberate, heavy thud on the polished marble floor. His face hardened into a mask of lethal, unyielding focus.