The most feared crime boss in Chicago once offered me fifty thousand dollars to survive a single week with his daughter.

The tension in Valentino’s hit an absolute, suffocating peak.

Ava held the jagged piece of broken glass tightly, her small knuckles turning ghost-white. Rain hammered relentlessly against the tall restaurant windows. Behind me, four armed bodyguards had their hands resting under their tailored suit jackets, ready to draw their weapons at the slightest sign of a threat.

Dominic Moretti stood motionless, his towering frame casting a long, dark shadow over his trembling eight-year-old daughter.

I remained crouched on the cold hardwood floor, keeping my body low, my palms open and exposed to show I carried no harm. I didn't look at the deadly crime boss. I kept my eyes locked entirely on Ava’s tear-streaked face.

"My name is Emily," I repeated softly, my voice calm, steady, and devoid of the fear that every other adult in the room was exuding. "And I think you're scared."

Ava’s chest heaved. She swallowed hard, her small chin shaking violently as she stared at me.

Then, she leaned slightly forward and whispered the words that stopped time itself.

"The man in the red tie... he told me my mommy’s accident is going to happen to me tonight."

Silence slammed into the room like a physical blow.

All the color drained from Dominic Moretti’s hardened face. His icy gray eyes snapped instantly toward the back corner of the restaurant, where his inner circle of associates sat. Standing near the kitchen hallway, wearing a crisp dark suit and a distinct burgundy red tie, was Marcus Vance—Dominic’s trusted lieutenant and chief legal advisor.

Marcus’s eyes widened in sudden, absolute panic. He instinctively took a step back toward the exit.

"Marcus," Dominic’s voice dropped to a register so low and lethal it sent a chill down my spine.

Before Marcus could reach the side exit door, two of Dominic’s senior bodyguards lunged forward, tackling him to the floor with a heavy crash. A hidden suppressed pistol clattered out of Marcus’s coat pocket and rolled across the polished floorboards.

Gasps and screams erupted from the restaurant patrons. People scrambled for the front doors as Dominic’s men efficiently closed off the exits, locking down the entire venue.

In the middle of the growing chaos, Ava gasped, dropping the shard of broken glass. A thin line of crimson blood welled on her small palm where the glass had cut her skin. She recoiled, pulling her hands to her chest, terrified by the sudden violence.

I didn't hesitate.

I stepped forward, putting my own body between Ava and the commotion. I pulled a clean cloth napkin from my apron, gently wrapped it around her bleeding hand, and pulled her into my arms.

"I've got you," I whispered, holding her head against my shoulder so she couldn't see Marcus being dragged into the back offices. "I've got you, Ava. You're safe."

Ava didn't fight me. She didn't bite, kick, or scream like the previous nannies had reported. Instead, she buried her face into the crook of my neck, her small arms wrapping around me with a desperate, crushing grip.

Dominic stepped over the shattered crystal, standing directly above us. His terrifying presence towered over me, but when he looked down at his daughter sobbing quietly in the arms of a humble waitress, the cold, ruthless mob boss faltered.

He slowly knelt down on one knee, his expensive suit trousers resting on the dirty floor.

"Ava..." Dominic reached out a heavy, calloused hand, but hesitated, afraid his touch would cause another outburst.

Ava peeked out from behind my shoulder, her eyes still filled with mistrust, but she didn't scream.

Dominic turned his gaze to me. Up close, his eyes were a storm of suppressed fury and deep, agonizing sorrow. He saw the way I held his daughter—not like a paid servant handling a dangerous child, but like a human being protecting a terrified soul.

"You heard her," Dominic said quietly.

"I heard her," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart. "She wasn't throwing a tantrum, Mr. Moretti. She was trying to cause enough of a scene so you wouldn't leave her alone with him."

Dominic let out a low, ragged breath. He looked at the napkin wrapped around her hand, then looked back into my eyes.

"Three nannies quit this week because they thought she was crazy," Dominic murmured. "You figured out the truth in thirty seconds."

"Because I looked at her eyes," I said gently. "Not her behavior."

Dominic stood up slowly, extending his large hand toward me.

"Get up," he commanded softly.

I took his hand, allowing him to help me stand while keeping Ava firmly in my arms.

"Fifty thousand dollars," Dominic said, his voice ringing with absolute, unbreakable authority. "Fifty thousand dollars in cash. You stay with my daughter at Moretti Manor for one week. Protect her. Understand her. Keep her safe while I clean up my house."

I swallowed hard, thinking of my mother’s crushing medical bills and the eviction notice waiting on my kitchen counter. But more than the money, I looked down at the little girl clinging to my neck as if I were her only lifeline in a world of monsters.