She Found the Mafia Boss's Injured Son Alone—Then Made One Call That Brought Chicago to a Halt

The threat was no longer just internal mafia war—it was the federal government.

A rogue Assistant U.S. Attorney in Chicago, eager to make a name for himself, had acquired leaked security footage from the Great Lakes Logistics building showing the armed confrontation and Simon Romano’s lethal fall. The FBI had launched a massive racketeering raid, seizing records, freezing bank accounts, and issuing search warrants for every Romano property in Illinois and New York.

In the secure war room of a private lakefront estate in Evanston, Illinois, Vincent sat surrounded by high-powered defense attorneys and financial strategists.

"They have enough to hold you on federal RICO charges for months without bail, Vincent," chief legal counsel Arthur Vance explained, laying out reams of legal documents. "If you go to a federal holding facility in Chicago, Simon's remaining allies in the federal prison system will have a clear shot at you."

"Can we fight the jurisdiction?" Tommy asked, pacing the room with a glass of whiskey.

"Not with the current prosecutor," Vance replied shaking his head. "He’s targeting the girl too."

Vincent’s head snapped up, his eyes turning to ice. "What did you say?"

"Celia Jace is listed as an unindicted co-conspirator and a key material witness," Vance warned. "The prosecutor knows she was in the penthouse and in the Chicago boardroom. They're preparing an arrest warrant to force her to testify against you."

Vincent slammed his fist onto the table, shattering a crystal glass. "She has nothing to do with this! She is an innocent civilian!"

"The law doesn't care about innocence when it's building a mob case, Boss," Tommy said quietly. "If they take her into custody, she’ll be placed in a federal holding cell. They'll break her to get to you."

Vincent stood up, pacing toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan. His mind moved at lightning speed, calculating scenarios, risks, and collateral damage.

For the first time in his life, his primary concern wasn't the survival of his criminal empire. It was the safety of a blue-eyed waitress from Queens.

He walked out of the war room and went down the hall to the private garden lounge, where Celia was sitting with Leo, helping him build a model airplane out of balsa wood.

"Leo, go with Dr. Sterling for your evening physical therapy," Vincent said softly, placing a hand on his son's head.

"Okay, Papa! Look, Celia helped me fix the wing!" Leo cheered before wheeling himself down the hall with the doctor.

Vincent sat down across from Celia, his expression heavy.

"The federal government is moving against us," Vincent said directly. "They are issuing a warrant for your arrest as a key witness."

Celia felt a cold spike of fear run through her stomach. "Arrest? But... I didn't do anything wrong!"

"I know," Vincent said, reaching out to take her hands in his. "Which is why I am not going to let them touch you."

"How can you stop the FBI?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Under federal law, a spouse cannot be compelled to testify against their partner under marital privilege," Vincent said, his dark eyes staring directly into hers with absolute sincerity.

Celia blinked, stunned. "Spouse? You're... you're talking about marriage?"

"It is the only legal shield that absolute power cannot break," Vincent said, his tone softening, losing every drop of its mob-boss coldness. "If you marry me, Celia, they cannot force you to speak. My legal team can quash the subpoena instantly. You will be completely protected under the Romano name."

Celia sat frozen, her heart hammering against her chest. "Vincent... this is crazy. A fake marriage to dodge a federal indictment?"

Vincent leaned in close, his fingers tightening gently around hers.

"It won't be fake to me," Vincent whispered, his voice thick with raw emotion. "I know how we met. I know the world I live in is dark and brutal. But in one week, you have given my son his life back, and you have given me something I thought died years ago—a reason to be a good man."

He looked into her eyes, searching her face. "I am asking you to share my life, Celia. Not as a hostage, not as a witness... but as my wife."

Celia looked at this complex, dangerous, fiercely protective man. She thought of her lonely, grinding existence in Queens, the endless double shifts, the cold silence of her apartment. And then she thought of the warmth she had felt over the last seven days—the way Vincent looked at her like she was the only person in the room, the way Leo laughed when she held his hand.