The Paralyzed Mafia Boss Violently Shoved His Food to the Floor — Until the Penniless Maid Dropped to Her Knees and Stopped His Pain

The luxurious American mansion bedroom was a cinematic masterpiece of dark wood furniture and quiet wealth. Warm lamp lighting cascaded over a massive, incredibly expensive Persian rug. But the peaceful atmosphere was violently shattered by a sudden, aggressive crash.

"Get out!"

The shout was guttural, raw, and completely unhinged.

Sitting in the center of the room in a heavy black metal wheelchair was Dominic. The forty-two-year-old mafia boss wore an unbuttoned white dress shirt and dark slacks, his broad, powerful shoulders heaving. He had just violently shoved a heavy silver tray off his lap.

Expensive porcelain shattered across the Persian rug. Hot coffee and scrambled eggs splattered everywhere, soaking into the priceless wool fibers.

Dominic wasn't just angry. He was in absolute, excruciating agony. A rival cartel had ambushed him three months ago. A bullet had shattered his lower spine, leaving the apex predator of the city paralyzed from the waist down. Suddenly, his right leg jerked upward in a violent, uncontrollable muscle spasm.

He grabbed the armrests of his wheelchair, his face turning pale, desperately trying to maintain his arrogant authority while his own body betrayed him.

Standing exactly three feet away was Fay. The young maid wore a simple peach-colored dress with a white apron, which was now stained with the coffee Dominic had just thrown.

She didn't gasp. She didn't scramble backward to call for help. She didn't apologize for his violent outburst.