The Billionaire Mafia Boss Left His Pregnant Wife to Freeze While He Honeymooned With His Mistress, but the Baby She Delivered Alone Became the One Thing He Could Never Buy Back

At the Moretti estate, the storm from Brooklyn had reached Long Island. Heavy lightning flashed across the sky, accompanied by rolling booms of thunder that shook the stone walls of the mansion.

Inside the nursery, Emma was softly singing her lullaby while holding tiny Lucia, while Anthony slept peacefully in his crib.

Suddenly, the estate's lights flickered and died, plunging the manor into darkness.

The emergency red backup lights clicked on a second later, casting eerie, crimson shadows across the hallway.

Emma’s instincts flared instantly. She stood up, pulling Lucia close to her chest. Before she could reach Anthony's crib, the heavy oak doors of the nursery were pushed open.

Julian Vance stepped into the room.

He was wearing a rain-drenched trench coat, carrying a silenced pistol in his right hand. Behind him stood two heavy-set men in tactical gear, carrying automatic rifles.

Emma backed away toward the corner, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Julian... what is the meaning of this? Where are the estate guards?"

"The guards on this floor have been neutralized, Miss Brooks," Julian said smoothly, stepping into the red light. "I must apologize for the dramatic intrusion, but time is short."

"What do you want?" Emma demanded, keeping her body shielded over the baby in her arms.

"I wanted a smooth transition of power," Julian sighed, raising his gun slightly. "Gabriel was supposed to break when Isabella died. He was supposed to surrender control of Moretti Holdings to the board, allowing me to merge our shipping ports with the European syndicate. But then you appeared."

Julian looked at Emma with deep disgust. "You kept those pathetic infants alive with your unexpected charity. You gave Gabriel a reason to fight back. And now, Gabriel has found Dr. Adler in Brooklyn. It is only a matter of minutes before he realizes the truth."

Emma’s eyes widened with horror. "You killed Isabella."

"I killed a woman who was standing in the way of a ten-billion-dollar merger," Julian corrected coldly. "And unfortunately, Miss Brooks, your little daughter was merely collateral damage in a much larger machine."

Emma went completely still. The breath left her lungs. "What did you say about my daughter?"

"Oh, didn't Adler tell you?" Julian sneered, taking a step closer. "Your little Grace didn't die of natural causes. She took the poison meant for Isabella. You’ve been nursing Gabriel’s children with milk created by a tragedy I ordered."

The world seemed to stop spinning for Emma. A cold, blinding rage—a mother’s rage—surged through her veins, burning away every ounce of fear. She looked at Julian Vance not with terror, but with absolute, lethal hatred.

"You monster," Emma spat, her voice surprisingly steady and terrifyingly quiet.

"Perhaps," Julian smiled wickedly. "But dead men tell no tales, and neither do grief-stricken wet nurses. Eliminate her, and take the children."

Before the tactical guards could step forward, the heavy reinforced window of the nursery shattered inward in a cascade of glass.