The Mafia Boss Installed Cameras for His Disabled Twin—But What the Chubby Maid Did in Secret Made His Daughter Walk Toward Him

The summer heat settled over New York, bringing thick, humid air and long, golden afternoons.

With Victoria effectively banished from the estate and the syndicate capos fully aware of Gabriel's protective stance, the mansion entered a rare period of deep tranquility.

Every morning, Emma took the girls out to the private rear gardens—a three-acre sanctuary enclosed by high stone walls, wrought-iron security fences, and discreet guard posts hidden among the ancient weeping willows.

Lily’s progress was steady, almost miraculous. She was now able to walk thirty yards without losing her balance, using a light wooden cane Emma had customized with colorful stickers and pink ribbon.

On a bright Tuesday morning, while Emma was sitting on a wooden bench watching Sophia chase butterflies across the lawn, Lily walked over to the edge of the stone terrace.

"Emma! Look!" Lily called out, pointing her cane toward a thick clump of rosebushes near the perimeter fence. "A puppy!"

Emma stood up instantly, her security instincts—honed by months of living in the Moretti household—taking over. "Lily, stay back from the bushes!"

Emma hurried across the grass, her heart picking up speed.

Through the thick green leaves of the rosebushes, near the base of the wrought-iron fence, a tiny, scruffy brown terrier puppy was whimpering, its leg caught in a loose section of wire netting near the ground.

Lily was already kneeling near the thorny branches, reaching her small hand toward the trembling dog.

"Lily, don't touch!" Emma commanded firmly, pulling the little girl back by her shoulders. "It might bite if it's scared."

"He's stuck, Emma," Lily whimpered, her hazel eyes filling with sudden tears. "His foot hurts. Like my foot!"

Emma looked at the puppy, then at the fence line.

The estate grounds were checked daily by security teams, but the heavy storm two nights ago had loosened a section of stone foundation near the drainage grate. The puppy had squeezed through from the woods outside.

Emma dropped to her knees, ignoring the sharp thorns pressing through her dark trousers. "Stay right behind me, Lily. Don't move."

Emma reached carefully into the thorny brush. Her hands—strong, capable, and unafraid of hard work—moved with gentle precision. The small dog growled softly in fear, its teeth grazing Emma’s wrist, but Emma didn't pull away.

"Shh, tiny boy," Emma murmured, her voice taking on that same low, hypnotic cadence she used with Lily. "It's okay. I've got you."

With a firm twist of her wrist, she snapped the rusted wire away from the puppy’s hind leg.

The little dog let out a sharp yelp, then immediately collapsed against Emma’s chest, licking her chin with frantic gratitude.

Emma pulled the puppy out of the brush, her hands scratched and bleeding slightly from the rose thorns, her hair pulled loose from her knot.

Lily let out a joyous squeal and wrapped her arms around both Emma and the puppy.

"You saved him!" Lily cried, kissing Emma’s scratched cheek. "Emma is the best doctor in the world!"

From the second-floor balcony overlooking the garden, Gabriel was standing with Marco, reviewing security logs.

He had watched the entire scene through a pair of binoculars.

He saw the thorns tearing into Emma’s skin. He saw her disregard her own safety to protect Lily and free a stray animal. And he saw the way his daughter threw her arms around Emma with an absolute, unreserved love that no money on earth could buy.

"Marco," Gabriel said quietly, lower his binoculars.

"Sir?"

"Have the vet inspect that puppy immediately. Clear it for rabies and vaccinations."

Marco blinked in surprise. "You're keeping the dog, Mr. Moretti?"

Gabriel watched Emma sit down on the grass, letting the puppy lick her bloody hands while both girls laughed hysterically around her.

"Yes," Gabriel said, a rare, soft smile breaking through his stern features. "My family seems to have a habit of taking in strays that turn out to be indispensable."

He turned away from the balcony and walked down the grand staircase.

When he reached the garden terrace, Emma was trying to wipe the dirt from her trousers while holding the puppy in a clean towel. Her hair was completely down now—long, wavy blonde locks framing her flushed, beautiful face.

"Mr. Moretti!" Emma said, jumping up nervously. "I'm sorry... a stray got through the drainage gap near the east wall. I know I shouldn't have let the girls near it—"

Gabriel walked up to her. He didn't look at the puppy. He didn't look at the dirt on her trousers.

He reached out, his large, long fingers gently taking her right hand.

Scratches ran across the back of her wrist, small beads of red blood pooling on her soft skin.

Gabriel pulled a clean silk handkerchief from his breast pocket. With astonishing tenderness, he wrapped the white silk around her wrist, his dark eyes fixed on her face.

"You're bleeding, Emma," he murmured softly.

"It's just rose thorns," Emma whispered, her breath catching as his thumbs gently stroked the uninjured skin of her palm. "It doesn't hurt."

"You care for everything in this house except yourself," Gabriel said, his deep voice carrying a dangerous, intoxicating warmth. "Who takes care of you, Emma?"

Emma looked into his dark, intense eyes, feeling the world around them shrink until there was only the hum of the summer cicadas and the heavy, electric beat of her own heart.

"I've always taken care of myself, Gabriel," she answered truthfully.