Mafia Boss’s Twins Screamed in Pain—Until a Maid Tore Open Their Teddy Bear and Found the Truth

The sun rose over the Hamptons, painting the Atlantic in cold, indifferent shades of gray and silver. Inside the Starks estate, however, the atmosphere was thick with the smell of gun oil and impending slaughter.

Marcus stood in the grand study, laying thick leather-bound ledgers across the mahogany desk. Behind him stood four enforcers in tailored black suits, their faces like granite masks.

Rory sat behind the desk, turning a heavy gold ring around his finger.

“Vane’s shipping accounts confirm it,” Marcus reported, his voice clipped and efficient. “The electronics weren’t bought overseas. They were custom-built by a tech firm in Queens called Apex Labs. Apex is a front for Julian’s sanitation business.”

“And the nanny?” Rory asked.

Marcus hesitated. “Susan Vane’s agency. The aunt who gave the girls the bear. She’s Julian’s first cousin. She’s the one who placed the order for the toy four months ago, right after the Christmas gala.”

Rory’s jaw tightened. A muscle jumped beneath his cheek. Susan. Her own blood had sold his daughters to an acoustic torture test to see how long it took for the twin girls to crack under psychological pressure, all to gain leverage in a corporate merger over the shipping lanes.

“Where is Susan now?” Rory asked softly.

“She’s currently hosting a charity brunch at the Plaza in Manhattan. Three hundred socialites, city councilmen, and district attorneys.”

Rory stood up, buttoning his jacket. “Good. Let’s go crash a brunch.”

Before he reached the double doors, a soft knock stopped him.

Veronica entered. She had changed into a sharp black turtleneck and trousers, her hair pulled back into a neat bun. She looked every bit the professional guardian. Behind her walked Lily and Rose, holding her hands. The girls looked pale, but the dark circles under their eyes were already fading. Their eyes were bright, curious, and free of terror.

“Daddy,” Rose said, running across the rug to wrap her small arms around his knees. “Are we going somewhere?”

Rory knelt, scooping both girls into his arms. He buried his face in their hair, inhaling their scent as if anchoring himself to the world of the living.

“Daddy has to go take care of some bad people,” Rory murmured, kissing their foreheads. “Veronica is going to stay with you. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Can we make pancakes while you’re gone?” Lily asked.

“Pancakes, castles, whatever you want,” Rory replied, setting them down gently. He looked up at Veronica. “Keep them safe.”

“With my life, Mr. Starks,” Veronica said.

As Rory strode out to the waiting convoy of armored Mercedes, Veronica turned to the girls with a warm smile. “Alright, princesses. Who wants to help me raid the kitchen for chocolate chips?”

As the black cars vanished down the gravel drive, Veronica walked to the front window. She pulled a heavy brass key from her pocket and double-locked the front doors. Something in her pocket buzzed—not a toy, but a burner phone she had kept hidden in the lining of her old nursing bag.

She pulled it out, looked at the glowing screen showing a single incoming text message, and smiled a cold, thin smile that no maid should ever possess.