The Mafia Boss’s Wife Abandoned Their Twin Babies During an Attack—But the Poor Maid Ran Back to Save Them

The truce inside the fortress was shattered on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

Damian had been called to an emergency meeting in Providence with the Commission—the ruling heads of the five families. He had left twenty elite guards to watch the fortress, under the command of his second-in-command, Luca Rossi.

Clara was in the library reading a children's book to Oliver and Owen when Luca entered.

Luca was a tall, smooth-talking capo with slicked-back hair and a smile that never reached his eyes. He had been Damian’s lieutenant for ten years.

"Miss Hayes," Luca said politely, bowing his head. "Mr. Costello called. The Commission wants to see the boys to verify their safety. It's a formality to settle the street rumors that the heirs are dead."

Clara felt a cold chill run down her spine. "Damian told me the boys were never to leave this house without him."

Luca’s smile tightened. "Circumstances have changed. The Don ordered it himself. My car is outside."

Oliver suddenly dropped his wooden toy and began to cry.

Clara looked past Luca. Through the library window, she noticed something unusual: the guards stationed at the front gate weren't at their posts. Two black SUVs she didn't recognize were idling quietly by the fountain.

"I’ll call Damian to confirm," Clara said, backing slowly toward the nursery intercom.

Before her hand touched the button, Luca’s hand clamped down on her wrist. The mask slipped completely. His eyes were cold, dead glass.

"You're not calling anyone, you stupid little peasant," Luca snarled, drawing a silenced pistol from his shoulder holster. "Damian is walking into a trap in Providence right now. He’s already dead. The Morettis paid ten million for these brats, and you’re coming with us as collateral."

Oliver’s cries grew louder. Owen began to wail.

Clara looked at the gun. Then she looked at the babies.

Something inside her—the timid girl who used to scrub baseboards and bow her head—snapped. The fire she had run through that night hadn't burned her. It had forged her into steel.

"You made a mistake, Luca," Clara said softly.