His Baby Stopped Breathing at 2 AM — The Nanny Did Something That Terrified the Mafia Boss

By sunrise, the Lake Forest estate looked like a war zone. Black SUVs from the Romano syndicate patrolled the perimeter, clearing away the wreckage of the Moretti attack. Four rival syndicate members were tied up in the basement, waiting for interrogation, while the rest had retreated into the Chicago night, realizing they had horribly underestimated the defenses of the Romano empire.

In the master study, Alessio stood by the window, smoking a rare cigar as the morning sun broke over Lake Michigan.

Dominic walked in, looking exhausted, tossing a thick manila folder onto the desk. "The last of Moretti's cleanup crew is locked away. They won't be trying that again anytime soon. And Marcus Vance?"

Alessio’s eyes narrowed. "What about him?"

"We picked him up outside his apartment in Lincoln Park an hour ago," Dominic said grimly. "He confessed to selling Fiona's location to the Moretti syndicate in exchange for fifty grand and a fake passport out of the country. He thought he could use the mob to get rid of Fiona so she could never testify about his drug thefts at the hospital."

Alessio turned around slowly. The air in the room grew heavy, suffocating. "Where is he?"

"Downstairs in the holding cell," Dominic said quietly. "Waiting for you."

Fiona, who had been sitting quietly in the corner armchair while Dominic gave his report, stood up. Her face was pale, but her expression was resolute. "I want to talk to him."

Alessio shook his head immediately. "No. You don't need to look at that piece of trash ever again."

"Alessio, I do," Fiona said, her voice carrying a quiet authority that brooked no argument. "For two years, that man held my life in his hands. He destroyed my career, dragged my name through the mud, and nearly got me and this baby killed last night. I need closure. I need to see him lose everything, just like he made me lose everything."

Alessio stared at her for a long moment, reading the fierce determination in her brown eyes. Slowly, he nodded. "All right. Come with me."

The basement holding cells beneath the Romano estate were cold, damp, and smelled of concrete and fear. Marcus Vance—once a arrogant, untouchable narcotics detective—was currently tied securely to a metal chair. His expensive jacket was torn, his face bruised from a brief encounter with Dominic's men, and his eyes were wide with sheer, unadulterated terror.

When the heavy iron door clanged open and Alessio Romano walked in, flanked by Dominic, Marcus began to hyperventilate. But when he saw the woman walking behind them—the nurse he had betrayed and discarded—his jaw dropped.

"F-Fiona?" Marcus stammered, straining against the zip-ties binding his wrists. "Fiona, baby, listen to me. They're monsters. You gotta help me get out of here—"

Fiona stopped a few feet away from him. She didn't look scared. She didn't look broken. She looked entirely, powerfully free.

"You ruined my life, Marcus," Fiona said, her voice steady and clear in the damp room. "You stole drugs, you pinned it on me, and then you sold me out to a syndicate just to save your own skin."

"I was desperate!" Marcus pleaded, tears pooling in his eyes. "They would have killed me! Fiona, please, tell these animals to let me go. We used to love each other—"

Before Marcus could finish, Alessio stepped forward. The syndicate boss didn't shout. He didn't raise a fist. He simply leaned down, looking Marcus dead in the eye with a gaze so chillingly devoid of humanity that the corrupt cop stopped breathing.

"You don't talk to her that way," Alessio whispered, his voice like grinding ice. "And you certainly don't lie under my roof."

Alessio stood back up and gestured to Dominic. "Take him to federal prosecutor Miller. Drop the files on his desk with a note from the Romano family. Make sure Marcus spends the next thirty years in a maximum-security prison where the inmates know he used to wear a badge."