The mafia boss walked into his kitchen looking for missing money and found his housekeeper’s four-year-old daughter apologizing for scratching the marble with her leg brace

The penthouse suite on the 40th floor of the Valenti Tower overlooked the glittering lights of the city skyline.

Dominic Valenti sat at his polished glass desk, swirling a glass of twenty-year-old scotch, staring at his phone. It was 1:15 AM. Enzo was fifteen minutes late.

"Incompetent fools," Dominic muttered to himself, reaching for the receiver.

The heavy double doors of his private office burst open with a deafening crash.

Dominic's two personal bodyguards barely had time to reach for their holsters before Marco and my elite breach team rushed into the room, tackling them to the floor and securing them in plastic flex-cuffs within seconds.

Dominic stood up so fast his leather chair overturned behind him. "What the hell is the meaning of this?!"

I walked calmly through the shattered door frame, stepping over the groaning bodyguards, stepping straight toward his desk. I pulled out a chair, turned it around, and sat down facing him.

"Good evening, Dominic," I said softly.

Dominic's face turned pale, then flushed dark red with anger. "Moretti... Have you lost your mind? Storming my private residence? This is a violation of the peace treaty!"

"The peace treaty died three months ago," I replied smoothly, "when you started paying my household manager to steal from me and spy on my home."

Dominic's eyes flickered with a brief moment of hesitation. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," I said. "You were looking for Julian’s child. Lily."

Hearing her name, Dominic straightened up, trying to regain his composure. "She is a Valenti! She belongs with her family!"

"Family?" I scoffed, leaning forward. "You murdered her father in a staged car accident because Julian was going to take his family away from your corruption. You hunted her mother across the country. And then you tried to kidnap a four-year-old girl using a disgraced, thieving housekeeper."

"Julian was weak!" Dominic spat out, his refined mask slipping completely. "He was going to split the family assets! That money belongs to the Valenti empire, not to some runaway girl and her broken brat!"

Before he could finish the sentence, I reached across the desk, grabbed him by the front of his silk shirt, and dragged him across the polished glass, scattering papers and expensive whiskey glasses everywhere.

"She is under my protection," I said, my voice dangerously low, my eyes locked onto his. "Her mother is under my protection. Every single dollar you tried to steal through Evelyn will be returned to Julian's trust fund, managed exclusively by Anna."

Dominic struggled against my grip, but my hold was ironclad. "You can't force me... The board... the lawyers..."

"The lawyers already have Enzo's signed confession," I interrupted. "And Marco is currently uploading your off-shore banking records—the ones Evelyn helped you hide—directly to the Federal Task Force. By 6:00 AM tomorrow morning, you won't be running an empire, Dominic. You'll be sitting in a federal holding cell facing murder charges for Julian's death."

Dominic stared at me, panic finally taking total control of his features. "Matteo... please. We can make a deal. Half the trust! I'll give you half!"

"I don't want your money, Dominic," I said, pushing him back violently into his overturned chair. "I just wanted to fix a floor."