You’re Not Tired, Sir, You’re Drugged,” the Maid’s Little Girl Told the Mafia Boss Calmly

For the next two weeks, the Ferrero estate transformed from a workplace into a fortified sanctuary. Julian, the traitorous assistant chef, had vanished into thin air before security could grab him, leaving behind a trail that pointed directly to a safehouse owned by the Moretti family down by the docks.

During those two weeks, my life turned upside down. Instead of cleaning floors in the east wing, I was given a suite of rooms next to the family quarters. Lucia was treated like royalty, provided with a private tutor, endless art supplies, and the undivided attention of a mafia boss who seemed strangely fascinated by her unfiltered honesty.

It was a crisp Tuesday evening when the shadows finally caught up to us.

I was in the estate’s grand kitchen helping prepare dinner when the lights suddenly flickered and died. Emergency generators kicked in a second later, bathing the mansion in a sickly, amber glow.

Crack!

The sharp, unmistakable sound of a gunshot echoed from the perimeter gates, followed instantly by the rapid-fire staccato of submachine gun fire.

Panic erupted among the staff. Women screamed, diving under counters.

"Alina!"

A strong hand gripped my wrist. I spun around to find Miller, his face carved with grim urgency, an assault rifle slung across his chest.

"Where is Lucia?" I screamed, terror ripping through my chest.

"She’s in the master study with the boss. He anticipated this. The Morettis are making a desperate push before we can dismantle their shipping lines. They breached the north gate."

"Take me to her!"

"Move!" Miller barked, shoving me ahead of him down the corridor as glass shattered somewhere overhead.

When we burst into the master study, the scene looked like a war zone. Heavy velvet drapes were pulled shut. Dominic stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a silenced 9mm pistol in one hand, peering through the blinds. In the corner, huddled behind a reinforced oak writing desk, Lucia sat calmly with her knees pulled to her chest, holding a stuffed rabbit Dominic must have had bought for her.

"Alina!" Lucia cried, running across the room and throwing her arms around my waist.

"Are you okay? Did they hurt you?" I checked her over frantically, tears streaming down my face.

"I’m fine, Mama," she said softly. "The nice man gave me a cookie and told me a story about a pirate ship."

I looked up at Dominic. There was a fresh graze along his jawline, a thin line of crimson blood tracking down his neck, but his eyes were as steady as cold steel.

"They're coming through the courtyard," Dominic said without turning around. "Three SUVs. Professional hitters. They think they can catch us sleeping."