The Ruthless Crime Boss Drew His Gun on a Midnight Intruder — Until He Saw the Starving 8-Year-Old Girl in His Pantry

Out in the hallway, Marco violently grabbed Silvia by the arm and dragged her into a secluded alcove.

"You stupid woman!" Marco hissed, his eyes wild with panic. "Why was he looking at the ledgers? He knows. I could see it in his eyes. He's just waiting to make his move."

"I didn't do anything!" Silvia panicked, tears of fear ruining her expensive makeup. "It's that miserable maid, Carmen! She complained to him! If he audits the bank accounts, he's going to find the Moretti payments!"

Marco’s hand hovered over his holster. In the mafia, betrayal meant a slow, agonizing death. If Vincent found out they were selling secrets, he wouldn't just fire them. He would bury them.

"We have to eliminate the problem before he digs deeper," Marco said, his voice turning cold and lethal. "We need a distraction. We frame the maid. We make her look like a thief, and I 'handle' her before Vincent can ask her any more questions."

Silvia nodded frantically. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a heavy, diamond-encrusted Rolex watch she had stolen from Vincent’s nightstand weeks ago.

"Put this in her bag," Marco ordered. "Then call me. I'll take care of the rest. And find her little rat of a daughter, too. No witnesses."

Down in the staff locker room, Carmen was coughing violently, packing her meager belongings into her worn-out tote bag. She just wanted to go back to the slums and hold Isabella.

She didn't notice the shadow creeping up behind her. Silvia quietly slipped the diamond watch deep into Carmen’s bag, a wicked, triumphant smirk crossing her face.