A Mafia Boss looked down on his maid after catching her

Dr. Vance, a brilliant physician bound to my family by an ironclad debt of honor, had evaluated Sophia inside the secure medical bay of my private compound in Oakbrook—a fortified estate five miles outside the city that even Lorenzo didn't have full access to.

"She suffers from severe malnutrition, chronic pulmonary inflammation from the smoke, and untreated scar tissue," Dr. Vance informed me outside the room, wiping his hands with a towel. "But she is resilient, Dominic. With proper care, physical therapy, and nutrition, she will recover fully."

"And Beatrice?" I asked, leaning against the cold wall of the corridor.

"Exhausted, but physically sound," Vance smiled faintly. "She refuses to leave your sister's bedside."

"Good," I muttered. "Don't let her."

I walked down the hall to Marco, my chief of security—a massive, silent man who had served my father before me. His arms were crossed over his chest, his jaw set like granite.

"The perimeter is locked down," Marco reported in a low rumble. "Only my personal squad knows they're here. Lorenzo is still at the lakehouse estate, expecting you to return to the mansion by dawn."

"Has he called?"

"Twice," Marco said, handing me a burner phone. "He asked if you 'took care' of the maid."

A dark, bitter smile touched my lips. I took the phone and pressed the speed dial.

Lorenzo answered on the second ring. "Dominic? Where the hell are you? I've been checking the study feeds. The Gallagher girl didn't come back to her boarding house."

I kept my voice flat, unbothered, perfectly playing the part of the ruthless mob boss he believed he controlled.

"I handled it, Lorenzo," I said smoothly.

A brief pause over the line. "Handled it? You mean..."

"She was small-time," I lied seamlessly. "Feeding a crippled aunt down in the South Side. I gave her five thousand dollars, told her if she ever stepped foot in Pinecrest Heights again I'd bury her in the marsh, and fired her."

Lorenzo let out a dry, skeptical laugh. "Five grand? Dominic, you're soft tonight. A thief in our house? She should have been fed to the fishes."

"I don't waste lead on starving maids, Lorenzo," I snapped, letting a touch of sharp annoyance enter my tone. "I have bigger things on my mind. The Marcone remnants in the West End are pushing boundaries again. I want a full council meeting at the Glass Fortress tomorrow night."

Silence lingered on the line for three long seconds. I could hear the wheels turning in Lorenzo's paranoid, calculating mind.

"The Glass Fortress?" Lorenzo asked, his tone shifting slightly. "We haven't held a full Capo council there since your father died."

"Which is precisely why we're holding it there," I replied coldly. "It's time to remind everyone who wears the ring in this city. Be there at eight sharp. Bring your full security detail."

"Of course, Boss," Lorenzo said, though the warmth in his voice had vanished, replaced by a razor-thin layer of suspicion. "Whatever you command."

I hung up the phone and handed it back to Marco.

"He doesn't fully buy it," Marco warned. "Lorenzo has spent twelve years paranoid that his ghosts would come back to haunt him. He'll double-check that basement before noon."

"Let him check," I said, my gaze turning toward the reinforced door of Sophia's room. "By the time he realizes the cellar is empty, the trap will already be set."

I pushed open the door to Sophia's room.

The space was warm, brightly lit, and filled with clean white linens. Beatrice sat in an armchair beside the bed, wrapped in a fleece blanket, holding a cup of warm tea. She started to stand up when I walked in, but I motioned for her to stay seated.

"How are you holding up, Beatrice?" I asked softly.

She looked down at the tea, then up at me, her brown eyes wide and searching. "I... I've spent twelve years expecting a bullet every time a black car pulled up to the curb. Sitting in a warm room feels like a dream I'm waiting to wake up from."

"It's not a dream," I said, pulling up a chair opposite her. "In my world, loyalty is rewarded beyond measure, and treason is repaid in blood. You kept my sister alive when I failed her. You will never want for anything again, Beatrice. That is my personal oath."

Tears welling in her eyes, she looked at Sophia, who was sleeping peacefully under three thick duvets, her breathing rhythmic and calm for the first time in over a decade.

"I didn't do it for a reward, Don Dominic," Beatrice whispered. "Sophia was just a child. She was innocent. In a house filled with blood and money, she was the only person who ever smiled at me like I was a human being."

Her words struck me like a physical blow.

In a house filled with blood and money...

I looked at Beatrice—at her cracked knuckles, her tired eyes, and her unyielding spirit. She had possessed more honor in a single finger than every suited Capo in my organization combined.

"Tomorrow night, it ends," I told her softly. "Lorenzo Vale will answer for every second of pain he inflicted on both of you."

Beatrice looked at me, her expression turning anxious. "He's dangerous, Dominic. He controls half the captains. He has men inside your own house."