Chapter 8 - The Purple Memory
Maya’s voice trembled, but the protective warmth in her heart overrode her fear of the billionaire.
"I heard a woman screaming," Maya continued, her hazel eyes locked onto Dante's pale-gray gaze. "I hid behind the dumpsters. I saw Marco and two men with guns drag a woman out of a black car. But they left the little girl behind on the wet pavement. She was crying."
Dante’s chest heaved. He had been tearing Manhattan apart looking for his wife, completely unaware that the traitor was managing his favorite restaurant.
"Marco raised his gun toward the child to leave no witnesses," Maya said, her voice breaking. "I couldn't let him hurt her. I threw a glass bottle down the alley to distract them. While Marco looked away, I grabbed Sophia and pulled her into the shadows with me."
Dante stared at the fragile, ivory-clad waitress in absolute awe. She had risked her own life against armed mafia hitmen to save his daughter.
"She was terrified, about to scream," Maya whispered, looking down at Sophia's beautiful chestnut-brown curls. "To keep her quiet, I reached into my apron. I gave her the only thing I had to distract her. A purple crayon."
The entire room fell dead silent. The mystery of the single word was finally solved.
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"Marco started walking toward us," Maya choked out. "I was terrified. When the police sirens approached, Marco panicked and fled. I ran the other way before anyone saw me. I was too scared of his gun to go to the cops."
👉 Marco thought he got away with the ultimate betrayal, but the mafia billionaire was about to pass his silent judgment.
