The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Cut the Pregnant Maid’s Hair to Humiliate Her—Unaware the Baby Was His Blood Heir...

Ethan stared at her. The anger, the suspicion, the cold calculations of the syndicate world—all of it dissolved into a searing, white-hot fury directed entirely at the man who had sat at his dining table that morning.

Vincent Caruso had not just stolen his brother’s life; he had stolen his nephew. He had held a gun to a young mother’s head for two years, forcing her to clean the floors of the very mansion where her child’s kidnappers drank champagne.

“Where is he?” Ethan asked. His voice wasn't loud. It was the quiet, terrifying calm before a hurricane.

“I don’t know,” Hannah wept. “Every time I got close to the files, Celeste or her father shifted the security codes. But... but yesterday, before the party, I found a partial decryption key in the library server.”

She reached under her pillow and pulled out a small, encrypted flash drive, handing it to Ethan.

“This has the GPS coordinates of the warehouse where they’re holding him. Not in Chicago. Up north, near the old iron mines in Michigan.”

Ethan took the drive. He placed it in his breast pocket, right over his heart.

He leaned over the bed, his large hand gently cupping her face, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“Listen to me, Hannah,” Ethan said, his voice thick with emotion. “When I left your brother’s grave, I thought I had no family left. I was wrong. My nephew is alive. And you... you are never scrubbing another floor in this house as long as you live.”

He stood up, turning toward the door.

“Mr. Bennett!” he shouted.

The old manager rushed into the room instantly.

“Boss?”

“Lock down the estate. Double the perimeter guards. No one enters, and absolutely no one leaves—especially not Vincent or Celeste Caruso. If either of them tries to move toward the gates, put them in the reinforced holding cells in the basement.”