"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

Inside the penthouse, the atmosphere was suffocating. Dominic had placed the building under total lockdown. Ten additional private security operators, heavily armed, were stationed at every entrance.

Layla sat on the sofa in the living room, wrapped in a soft cashmere blanket, a bowl of hot soup sitting untouched on the coffee table. Dr. Vance was setting up a portable fetal monitor in the next room, preparing for the afternoon checkup.

Dominic stepped out of his private study, wearing a dark suit and carrying a leather briefcase. His face was a mask of cold, tactical focus.

"Where are you going?" Layla asked, her voice raspy from crying the night before.

Dominic walked over to her, kneeling on the carpet in front of her sofa so they were at eye level. He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a dry tear track on her cheek.

"I have a meeting with Julian Moretti—Victoria's father," Dominic said calmly.

Layla’s eyes widened with terror. "Are you insane?! Victoria just threatened to kill our babies! If you go to her father's estate, they'll trap you!"

"Julian doesn't know what Victoria is planning," Dominic explained softly. "Julian is an old-school mafia Don. He operates on a strict code of honor. Victoria has been running rogue operations behind her father's back, using Moretti soldiers to hit rival territories without Julian's permission."

"How do you know that?"

"Because my men intercepted encrypted comms from Santo's phone last night," Dominic replied. "Victoria isn't just trying to wipe out you and the twins, Layla. She’s planning to poison her own father next month, blame it on my family, and take complete control of the Moretti syndicate."

Layla gasped. "She's monster..."

"She's ambitious," Dominic corrected darkly. "And ambition without honor makes people predictable. I'm taking the evidence to Julian today. Once Julian sees that his own daughter is plotting his assassination, the Moretti family will destroy itself from the inside."

Layla looked into Dominic’s dark eyes. For four months, she had viewed him as a heartless billionaire who had discarded her like trash. But looking at him now—seeing the fierce protectiveness in his eyes, feeling the warmth of his hands cradling her face—she realized how wrong she had been. He wasn't heartless; he was a man who had built a wall of ice around his heart to survive a brutal world. And somehow, her and their unborn children had melted through that ice.

"Dominic," Layla whispered, reaching out to grasp his wrist. "Promise me you'll come back."

Dominic looked down at her small hand resting on his wrist. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her forehead, holding the kiss for a long, tender moment.

"I always come home to what's mine, Layla," he murmured against her skin. "Watch over the babies until I return."

He stood up, gave a sharp nod to Marcus, who was standing near the door with an automatic rifle concealed beneath a long coat, and walked out of the penthouse.

Two hours passed in agonizing silence.

Layla lay on the sofa, listening to the soft hum of the fetal monitor in the guest room. Dr. Vance sat nearby, checking Layla's blood pressure.

"Your pressure is still high, Miss Bennett," Dr. Vance warned gently. "You need to relax. Stress isn't good for the twins."

"I can't relax," Layla whispered, staring at the ceiling. "Every minute he's away feels like an eternity."

Suddenly, the lights in the penthouse flickered violently.

BZZZZT.

The grand chandelier above the living room blinked twice and died, plunging the vast room into semi-darkness, illuminated only by the gray rainy light filtering through the windows.

A second later, the backup emergency red lights clicked on with a dull hum.

Marcus immediately drew his sidearm, tapping his ear communicator. "Control, this is Marcus. We just lost main power on floor 80. Report."

Only static came back through his earpiece. Crackle... BZZZ...

"Control, respond!" Marcus shouted into his radio, his face turning pale.

Layla sat up, her instincts screaming. "Marcus? What's happening?"

Before Marcus could answer, a loud explosion echoed from the elevator shaft—a muffled BOOM that shook the entire marble floor beneath their feet.

The metal doors of the private elevator were violently blown inward by a breacher charge, filling the living room with dust, smoke, and shattered glass.

Through the black smoke, four men dressed in tactical gear and wearing night-vision goggles charged into the penthouse, their automatic weapons raised.