CHAPTER 1 A Poor Delivery Girl Comforted the Mafia Boss’s Autistic Son
A Poor Delivery Girl Comforted the Mafia Boss’s Autistic Son—And Left the Entire Room Speechless
Melody Park’s ancient Honda sputtered to a stop at the iron gates of what could only be described as a fortress disguised as a mansion. Rain lashed against her windshield as lightning illuminated the stone gargoyles perched atop the entrance pillars, their eyes seeming to follow her every movement.
The security guard who approached her window looked more like a professional fighter than a doorman, his broad shoulders straining against his black suit as he scrutinized the delivery bag on her passenger seat.
“ID and order confirmation,” he demanded gruffly, raindrops sliding down his stoic face.
Melody’s hands trembled slightly as she handed over her credentials, the medical bills piling up at her apartment flashing through her mind. This double shift delivering for GourmetNow was the only way she could afford her mother’s cancer treatments, especially after being laid off from her day job at the community center.
The guard’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly as he examined her delivery ticket, his eyes darting toward the main house before he reluctantly stepped back.
“Follow the driveway to the front entrance. Don’t deviate. Don’t take pictures. Don’t linger,” he instructed, punching a code into the gate panel.
As the massive gates swung open, Melody could not shake the feeling that she was entering another world entirely. The sprawling estate before her gleamed with wealth despite the darkness, security cameras tracking her every move along the winding driveway lined with perfectly trimmed hedges.
3 more guards materialized as she approached the grand entrance, their hands hovering near concealed weapons as they surrounded her vehicle. 1 opened her car door while another inspected the sealed food bags with suspicious intensity, checking for tampering.
The mansion’s facade loomed above her, all dark stone and gothic architecture that seemed wildly out of place in the upscale Seattle neighborhood. Lightning flashed again, revealing windows that seemed more like watching eyes than architectural features.
“Arms out,” instructed a female guard with a facial scar, efficiently patting Melody down before nodding toward the massive double doors. “The kitchen entrance is around back, but tonight you’ll deliver directly to the main hall due to circumstances.”
Melody clutched the insulated food bags against her chest like a shield as they escorted her up marble steps slick with rain. The door swung open to reveal an opulent foyer that could have housed her entire apartment building, crystal chandeliers casting rainbow prisms across polished floors.
A crash from deeper within the house made all the guards tense simultaneously, their hands moving to weapons as shouting echoed through the cavernous space. Melody froze, her heart hammering against her ribs as the sounds of destruction grew louder.
“Get down,” a deep voice commanded from somewhere nearby, followed by what sounded like expensive porcelain shattering against a wall.
The guards exchanged meaningful glances that did nothing to calm Melody’s growing panic.
The female guard grabbed Melody’s arm, her grip firm but not painful.
“Stay here. Don’t move. Don’t speak unless spoken to,” she instructed, her expression revealing nothing as another crash reverberated through the mansion.
A man’s anguished scream pierced the air, followed by unintelligible words and more breaking objects.
“He’s been like this for hours,” 1 guard whispered to another, clearly forgetting Melody could hear every word in the echoing foyer.
Through the archway ahead, Melody glimpsed a flurry of movement: men in suits attempting to corner someone, furniture overturned, and a tall figure standing apart from the chaos, his silhouette radiating unmistakable authority despite the turmoil around him.
“$3,000 for whoever can calm him down,” the commanding figure shouted, desperation evident in his voice as something else shattered against the wall.
Melody clutched the food bags tighter, rooted to the spot as fear and curiosity waged war inside her.
The scene that greeted her as she was reluctantly ushered forward defied all expectations. A young man, perhaps 19 or 20, was crouched in the corner of a devastated living room, his hands covering his ears while he rocked violently back and forth, surrounded by shards of what had once been priceless artifacts.
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4 burly men stood at a careful distance, clearly unsure how to proceed as the young man let out another heart-wrenching scream.
“Noise. Noise. Noise,” he cried, his elegant clothes disheveled and tear-stained, eyes squeezed shut against whatever storm raged inside his mind.
