A Little Girl Made Me Laugh by Pretending to Be a Mafia Boss—Then One Silver Lighter Wiped the Smile From My Face.

The mansion felt like a tomb as Emma sprinted up the grand staircase. Her breath came in ragged gasps, the heavy set of car keys cutting into her palm. The reality of the mafia world, which she had tried so desperately to shield Nora from, was now crashing down upon them with lethal force.

She burst into the bedroom in the East Wing. Nora was sitting on the floor, perfectly content, trying to dress her plush teddy bear in the oversized black silk tie she had claimed earlier that day.

"Nora, baby, we have to go," Emma said, her voice shaking as she grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and began shoving clothes into it blindly.

"Are we going on a trip, Mommy?" Nora asked, her bright blue eyes wide with innocent curiosity.

"Yes, sweetie. A very fast trip. Put your shoes on."

Within five minutes, Emma was carrying the heavy duffel bag over one shoulder and holding Nora tightly against her hip with her other arm. She navigated the back servants' corridors, a path she knew intimately from her fourteen months as a housekeeper. The estate was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

She reached the heavy steel door that led to the east garage. Her hand trembled as she pushed it open. The garage was a cavernous space, smelling of expensive gasoline and polished leather. The black SUV Adrian had mentioned sat in the far corner.

Emma rushed toward it, opening the rear door and hastily strapping a confused Nora into the car seat.

"I don't like the dark, Mommy," Nora whimpered softly.

"I know, baby, I know. Just close your eyes. It will be over soon," Emma promised, slamming the door shut.

She ran to the driver's side, pulling the door open. Before she could climb in, a heavy, cold hand clamped down on her shoulder, spinning her around with violent force.

Emma screamed, but a gloved hand slapped over her mouth, stifling the sound.

Standing before her in the dim light of the garage was Marcus Cole. He was in his late sixties, impeccably dressed in a tailored gray suit, his silver hair slicked back. He possessed the same rugged Cole features as Adrian and James, but his eyes were entirely dead. Flanking him were three heavily armed guards, their weapons drawn and equipped with silencers.

"Hello, Emma," Marcus said, his voice smooth and cultured, entirely devoid of warmth. "Leaving so soon?"

Emma struggled wildly, her fair skin turning pale with absolute terror, but the guard holding her was too strong. She kicked and writhed, her muffled screams echoing in the garage.

"Quiet now," Marcus tutted, stepping closer and inspecting her with cold disdain. "I must admit, when Silas told me Adrian had moved a maid into the family wing, I was curious. It didn't take much digging to recognize the girl from the bakery James used to frequent."

Emma’s heart stopped. Silas. Silas had betrayed Adrian, too.

Marcus stepped past her, looking through the tinted window of the SUV at the terrified three-year-old girl sitting inside. Nora was crying silently, clutching her toy purse.

"She has James’s eyes," Marcus murmured, almost wistfully. "A shame. James was a good boy, but he was weak. He wanted to trade an empire for a family. In this business, love is a liability. It makes men soft. It makes them vulnerable."

Marcus turned back to Emma, signaling the guard to remove his hand from her mouth.

"Please," Emma sobbed, falling to her knees on the cold concrete. "Please, Marcus. Let her go. She’s your blood. She’s James’s daughter!"

"Which is exactly why she cannot live," Marcus said flatly, adjusting his cuffs. "Adrian is already unraveling because of her. If I let her live, she will be the crack that shatters this syndicate. I did what had to be done with James, and I will do what has to be done now."