My Mafia Boss Husband Chose His Mistress While I Was in Labor, but When He Came Home Our Son and I Had Vanished

By 2:00 AM, the small apartment was illuminated by battery-powered lanterns brought up by Damian’s men.

Damian sat on the small sofa, his dark coat removed, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

In his broad, powerful arms, he held Julian.

The baby was awake, looking up at the strange, dark-haired man with big, curious brown eyes. Julian reached out a tiny, soft hand and grabbed Damian’s index finger, his small fingers curling tight around Damian’s knuckle.

Damian stared down at his son. Tears dripped silently from his jaw onto the baby’s blue onesie.

"Julian," Damian whispered, his voice shaking with a reverence he had never known in his entire life. "My boy. My sweet, beautiful boy."

Claire sat across from him at the kitchen table, watching them with a guarded, vigilant posture. Jenna stood near the door, still clutching a heavy brass candlestick as a precaution.

"He looks like you," Claire said quietly, her voice devoid of anger now, left only with a heavy sadness. "He has your chin. And your stubbornness."

Damian didn't look up from the child. "I missed his first smile. I missed his first kick."

"You chose to miss it, Damian," Claire reminded him gently.

Damian swallowed hard. He carefully lifted Julian, kissing the top of the baby's head with an agonizing tenderness, before looking up at Claire.

"What happens now?" Damian asked softly. "Are you going to run again?"

"If I have to," Claire said directly. "Malcolm has forty more locations ready. You can spend the next twenty years chasing me across the globe, Damian. But every time you find me, you will only ever find a woman who tolerates your presence for her son’s sake. You will never have my heart again."

Damian closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.

He knew she was right. He knew that if he forced them to return to Connecticut, if he placed them under guard in his mansion, he would be turning his family into prisoners. He would be no better than his ruthless father.

"I won't force you back," Damian said, his voice dropping into a solemn, heavy oath.

Claire blinked, surprised. "What?"

Damian looked her dead in the eye. "I won't force you to live in Connecticut. I won't lock you in a cage. If you want to stay in Montreal, you stay in Montreal. I will buy the entire block to ensure your security, but my men will stay at the end of the street. They will never cross your threshold without your permission."

He set Julian carefully back into Claire’s arms.

"I am stepping down as Don of the Moreland family," Damian declared flatly.

Jenna gasped. Claire stared at him, stunned. "Damian... you can't just step down. The Capos—"

"The Capos can take the empire and tear each other apart for all I care," Damian snapped, his eyes burning with absolute conviction. "I spent seven years building a fortress that turned me into a monster. I don't want it anymore. I am liquidating my personal shares into an irrevocable trust for Julian, managed exclusively by you and Malcolm Reed."

He stood up, drawing himself to his full height, looking down at his wife and child.

"I will live in a house twenty minutes away," Damian continued softly. "I will ask for two hours a week to see my son. I will earn his trust. And if it takes the rest of my life... I will earn yours."

Claire looked at him—at the raw, naked sincerity in his eyes. For eight years, she had known Damian the Don. But standing before her now was Damian the man—stripped of his empire, stripped of his pride, kneeling in the wreckage of his own making, offering everything he owned for a second chance.

"Two hours a week," Claire said carefully. "Public places. No security guards surrounding us."

Damian nodded instantly. "Whatever you ask."

"And Damian?" Claire added, her voice soft but firm.

"Yes?"