"The Billionaire Mafia Boss Fired His Maid Over One Shattered Glass, but the Twins Beneath Her Heart Exposed the Fiancée Who Had Already Chosen His Grave

Layla sat on a plush velvet armchair inside the room, her hands tightly clutching her father's silver bird locket as she watched the central screen.

On the monitor, the elevator doors slid open.

Victoria Moretti stepped out, draped in a floor-length white mink coat, her dark hair falling over her shoulders in glossy waves. Behind her stood a hulking man in a gray suit—Santo, the Moretti family’s most notorious enforcer, a man known throughout Chicago’s underworld for making bodies disappear in the icy depths of Lake Michigan.

Dominic stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, casually buttoning his suit jacket as if he were receiving an unannounced business associate rather than a deadly assassin.

"Victoria," Dominic said, his voice smooth on the audio feed. "You usually call before dropping by my home."

Victoria smiled, walking into the center of the living room with the slow, graceful elegance of a swan. She unbuttoned her mink coat, tossing it onto the sofa where Layla had sat just moments before.

"Do I need an appointment to see my fiancé?" Victoria asked, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. She walked up to Dominic, reaching up to lay a manicured hand on his chest. "I was in the neighborhood visiting my wedding planner. I thought we could discuss the guest list for the reception at the Drake Hotel."

Dominic didn't pull away from her touch, but his eyes were cold as ice. "Marcus handles my schedule. Send the list to my office."

Victoria’s eyes darted subtly around the penthouse. She sniffed the air—a faint scent of lavender soap and clinical antiseptic from Dr. Vance’s earlier examination still lingered in the air.

"You seem tense, Dominic," Victoria murmured, her sharp eyes landing on a small silver spoon left on the kitchen island—a spoon that had come with Layla’s soup. "Are you spending too much time working? Or are you hiding something from me?"

"I don't hide things in my own house, Victoria," Dominic replied smoothly.

Santo, the enforcer, took two slow steps toward the hallway leading to the guest suites. "Mr. Gallow," Santo grunted, his voice like grinding stones. "Your security down in the garage seemed unusually jumpy tonight. Four extra guards on the perimeter. Is there a security threat we should know about?"

"My security is always tight, Santo," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a deadly register. "Especially when uninvited guests walk into my living room."

Victoria chuckled, a sharp, metallic sound. "Oh, don't be so dramatic, darling. Santo is just looking out for us. After all, once we're married, your empire becomes my empire. We wouldn't want any... distractions ruining our future."

Victoria walked over to the kitchen island, her red fingernails tapping against the marble surface right near the silver spoon. She picked it up, examining it closely.

"You know, Dominic," Victoria said, her tone suddenly shifting, dropping the playful innocence. "I heard a fascinating rumor yesterday from a contact on the South Side."

Dominic didn't move a muscle. "I don't listen to South Side rumors."

"You should," Victoria purred, turning to look him dead in the eye. "Word is, an old maid of yours—a pathetic little creature named Layla Bennett—was spotted working at a filthy diner. And word is, she’s pregnant. Carrying twins."

Inside the hidden safe room, Layla held her breath, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Dominic didn't blink. He took a slow step toward Victoria, his towering presence filling the room. "And why would a former maid’s medical status concern you, Victoria?"

"Because," Victoria hissed, dropping the silver spoon onto the marble with a harsh clack, "some people are saying those bastards belong to you. Some people say you slept with a servant behind my back."

Dominic’s jaw tightened, a vein pulsing at his temple. "If anyone in this city repeats that lie to my face, I’ll cut their tongue out."

Victoria’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. She stepped up to Dominic, reaching up to touch his face, her fingernails pressing lightly against his skin.

"Good," Victoria whispered softly, her toxic smile returning. "Because I’d hate to think you were keeping a secret from me, Dominic. You know how my father reacts to betrayal. If a maid ever tried to claim your bloodline, my father wouldn't just kill her. He’d make sure her children were cut from her belly and burned before her eyes."

Inside the safe room, Layla let out a stifled sob of horror, covering her mouth with both hands.

Dominic didn't flinch, but his eyes turned into swirling vortexes of dark rage. He reached up, grabbed Victoria’s wrist, and squeezed until her red-painted nails pulled away from his face.

"Your father doesn't run my house, Victoria," Dominic said, his voice dangerously low. "And neither do you. Now get out of my penthouse before I forget that you're a lady."

Victoria stared at him for three agonizing seconds, realizing she had pushed as far as she could tonight. She pulled her wrist back, smoothed down her mink coat, and smiled thinly.

"We'll speak tomorrow at the charity board meeting, darling," Victoria said smoothly. "Don't be late."

She turned and walked toward the private elevator, Santo falling in step behind her. As the elevator doors closed, Dominic stood frozen in the living room, his hands clenched into tight fists.

Five seconds later, he walked swiftly toward the library, hit the secret release button, and pulled the hidden door open.

Layla was sitting on the floor of the safe room, trembling violently, her arms wrapped tightly around her pregnant belly, tears streaming down her face.

"Layla," Dominic called out, dropping to his knees beside her, gathering her trembling body into his broad arms. "It's okay. She's gone."

"She's going to kill them, Dominic!" Layla sobbed against his chest, her hands clutching his shirt. "She knows! She knows about the babies! She's going to kill us all!"