Don't You Dare Order My Mommy Around!

The lights inside Villa Moretti did not flicker, but the entire estate transformed in an instant into a war zone operating in absolute, silent efficiency.

Heavy steel shutters descended over the lower windows with a low, mechanical hum, sealing the ground floor into an impenetrable armored vault. The classical paintings and crystal chandeliers were swallowed by shadows as the main power grid was cut, leaving only the soft red glow of emergency floor strips to guide the guards.

Inside the fourth-floor suite, I stood in the walk-in reinforced safe room hidden behind Alessandro's wardrobe, clutching Emma tightly against my chest.

"Mommy, why is it so dark?" Emma whispered, rubbing her sleepy eyes, her fingers tangled tightly in Barnaby’s soft blue wool ear.

"It's just a game, sweetie," I lied gently, kissing the top of her head while trying to keep my own breathing steady. "The house is just taking a nap."

Outside the safe room door, the heavy muffled sound of suppressed gunfire echoed through the lower corridors—short, controlled bursts of three rounds each, followed by the heavy thud of bodies hitting the marble.

Alessandro stood in the center of his private office, wearing a dark tactical vest over his white shirt. In his hands, he held a sleek, custom black submachine gun, his expression as calm and unbothered as a man preparing a cup of morning coffee.

Marco stepped into the room, wiping a smudge of dark soot from his tactical goggles.

"The rear courtyard is cleared, Boss," Marco reported smoothly. "Four Castiglione enforcers breached the service fence near the laundry room. They were carrying heavy suppressed weapons and incendiary charges. They weren't coming to rescue Vivian. They were coming to burn the evidence and eliminate the house staff."

Alessandro’s eyes flashed with lethal fury. "They wanted to kill everyone in the service quarter?"

"They assumed the bug had been compromised when the receiver van lost signal," Marco nodded. "They wanted to leave zero witnesses."

Alessandro adjusted the sling of his weapon, turning his gaze toward the heavy steel door of the safe room where I was hiding with Emma.

"Where is Vivian?" Alessandro asked coldly.

"Locked in the wine cellar in the basement," Marco replied. "She's hysterical. She knows Castiglione sent a cleanup crew to eliminate her along with the rest of us."

"Bring her up to the grand hall," Alessandro commanded. "It is time to end this farce."

Five minutes later, the main lights of the grand hall flickered back on.

The marble floor near the service corridor was spotless, the blood and spent shell casings already cleared away by Marco’s hyper-efficient security detail. The twelve families were gone, but the heavy, ancient atmosphere of judgment remained hanging in the cold air.

Vivian Romano was brought down the grand staircase, her hands bound behind her back with thick zip-ties. Her beautiful red Versace gown was torn at the hem, her blonde hair messy, her eyes wide with unadulterated, primal panic.

"Alessandro! Please!" she sobbed, falling to her knees on the cold marble floor before his leather boots. "They forced me! Castiglione threatened my brother! They said they would kill him if I didn't place the bug!"

Alessandro stood before her like a dark deity of justice, his weapon resting casually against his thigh.

"You placed a military wiretap inside a three-year-old child's toy, Vivian," Alessandro said, his voice entirely devoid of pity. "You brought bloodthirsty mercenaries to the doorstep of my home, knowing that the innocent staff inside—the people who cooked your meals and washed your clothes—would be slaughtered to cover your tracks."

"I didn't know they were going to burn the house!" she shrieked, tears ruining her expensive makeup. "I swear I didn't know!"

"Ignorance is not an excuse in my world," Alessandro said flatly.

He raised his left hand, making a swift, subtle gesture toward Marco.

"Her father will be notified of her betrayal," Alessandro ordered coldly. "The Romano family will surrender all shipping concessions in Genoa by noon tomorrow. As for Vivian..."

He looked down at her with pure, unforgiving disdain.

"She will spend the next ten years in a high-security private isolation facility in Sicily," Alessandro declared. "Where she will never see the sunlight of Milan again."

"No! Alessandro, please! Mercy!" Vivian screamed as two heavy-set guards grabbed her by the arms, dragging her backward across the marble floor toward the waiting black armored transport outside. Her shrieks faded into the dark, rain-soaked night as the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind her, sealing her fate forever.

The grand hall fell silent once more.

I walked down the grand staircase, holding Emma’s hand tightly in mine. My daughter was fully awake now, looking around the bright hall with her big, curious eyes, her small blue rabbit tucked safely under her arm.

Alessandro turned around as he heard our footsteps.

The terrifying, ruthless Don of Northern Italy vanished in an instant, replaced by the man who had knelt before my daughter on this very marble floor hours ago. He unclipped his tactical vest, tossing it onto a side chair, and walked toward us with long, easy strides.

He lowered himself onto one knee right in front of Emma.

"Is the house done taking a nap, Mr. Boss?" Emma asked innocently, holding her rabbit up.