Mafia Boss's Twins Saw A Blind Woman With A Fierce Dog — Her Face Froze Them Instantly

Sleep did not come easily to Corsica in the unfamiliar, sprawling room at Marchetti Manor.

The bed was luxurious, soft, and wrapped in high-thread-count Egyptian cotton, but the silence of the large house felt heavy. She lay awake, listening to the gentle patter of rain against the glass of the terrace doors, her hand resting on her round belly as her baby gave a soft, rhythmic kick.

Beside the bed, Nero lay on a plush rug, his ears occasionally twitching at the subtle sounds of the estate—the faint hum of the security system, the distant patrolling steps of guards in the courtyard below.

Around 2:00 AM, Corsica heard a soft creak outside her bedroom door.

Nero lifted his head, but he didn't growl. His tail gave a single, lazy thump against the floor.

The door creaked open further, and the sound of small, bare feet pitter-pattered across the hardwood.

"Auntie Corsica?" a tiny voice whispered.

It was Letty.

Corsica sat up slowly, pulling the silk duvet over her lap. "Letty? Is that you, sweetie?"

The little girl scrambled onto the edge of the high mattress, her small hands reaching out until they found Corsica’s arm. She crept close, burying her face into Corsica’s side.

"I had a nightmare," Letty snuffled softly, her voice muffled by Corsica’s nightgown. "I dreamed the bad noise at the harbor came back and took you away like it took Mommy."

Corsica’s heart melted into a puddle of warmth. She wrapped her arms around the motherless child, smoothing her soft curls, pulling her gently against her side.

"I'm right here, Letty," Corsica whispered, resting her chin on top of the little girl's head. "No bad noise is going to take me away. I have Nero, remember? He's bigger than any bad dream."

From the floor, Nero let out a soft huff, as if agreeing with her statement.

A silhouette appeared in the doorway. Paxton stood there, dressed in a black t-shirt and dark trousers, his hair slightly rumpled. He had been monitoring security feeds in his study when he saw Letty wander down the hallway on the internal cameras.

He stopped in the threshold, watching the scene in the dim light filtering from the hallway.

Corsica was swaying gently, humming a low, soothing lullaby—a traditional Irish melody Tommy had sung to her when she was a child. Letty’s small body relaxed instantly, her breathing slowing into a calm, rhythmic pattern as sleep reclaimed her.

Paxton walked quietly into the room, his bare feet making no sound. He stood beside the bed, looking down at his daughter sleeping soundly in Corsica’s arms.

"She hasn't let anyone hold her like that since Celeste died," Paxton said, his voice barely above a breath, rich and thick with emotion.

Corsica turned her head toward his voice, offering a soft, tired smile. "She was frightened. She thinks I'm going to disappear."

"Are you?" Paxton asked softly, leaning down to pick up Letty, but the little girl groaned softly and gripped Corsica’s nightgown tighter in her sleep.

Corsica felt the movement and smiled wider. "It seems I’m stuck here for the night."

Paxton sat carefully on the edge of the mattress beside them. The proximity was electric. The scent of his cedarwood cologne mixed with the fresh rain outside filled Corsica’s senses, making her pulse quicken.

"You look so much like her," Paxton murmured, his fingers gently reaching out to lift a dark lock of hair away from Corsica’s cheek, his knuckles lightly skimming her warm skin. "When you first walked into Giordano’s, I thought my mind had finally snapped. I thought grief had made me insane."

"I'm sorry," Corsica whispered softly. "I know my face brings back terrible pain for you."

"No," Paxton said, his tone fiercely earnest. "For three years, this house has felt like a mausoleum. My daughters were drowning in silence. But tonight... listening to you sing to her... it feels like warmth came back into this place."

He reached out, his hand hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then he laid his broad, warm palm over the side of her baby belly.

Corsica held her breath as the baby kicked right beneath Paxton’s palm.

Paxton gasped softly, a look of profound, raw wonder washing over his hardened features in the moonlight. "She's strong."