The Mafia Boss Carried My Sleeping Toddler Into His Forbidden Wing—Then She Woke Holding His Bare Hand, and One Gray Rabbit Exposed the Man Who Betrayed Us Both

The air in the study went entirely dead. I stared at Lorenzo, my mind desperately trying to reassemble the pieces of a puzzle that was rapidly turning into a trap.

"In my pocket?" I repeated, my voice rising in disbelief. "Are you insane? Why would I steal a key to the north gate just to leave it in my own clothes?"

"That is the question, isn't it?" Lorenzo walked slowly toward me, his movements fluid and dangerous, like a predator circling an injured deer. He stopped just a foot away. Without the barrier of his gloves, the air around him felt intensely personal, charged with a strange, magnetic friction. "You owe money to a pharmacy in the city. Two thousand dollars for your daughter's asthma medication. Your bank account has been empty for three weeks. The Moretti family pays handsomely for inside schedules."

"You investigated me," I whispered, anger suddenly cutting through the terror.

"I investigate everyone who breathes the air inside my gates," Lorenzo corrected, his voice low and steady. "It is how I survive. It is how they survive." He gestured vaguely toward the ceiling, where Emma was presumably playing with Mrs. Costa. "The key was tucked into the lining of your apron. The same apron you wore while cleaning up the blood in the second study."

"I didn't put it there!"

"Then who did?"

"I don't know!" I cried out, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. "I was scrubbing the floor, the smell of the citrus cleaner was too strong, my head started spinning, and then I passed out! Anyone could have walked into that room while I was unconscious. Anyone could have slipped the key into my pocket to frame me!"

Lorenzo studied my face for a long, agonizing moment. His dark eyes searched every line, every twitch, every micro-expression, looking for the telltale signs of a liar.

"You are a terrible criminal, Maya," he finally said, a faint, humorless smirk touching the corner of his mouth. "If you were selling secrets to Moretti, you would not be wearing a donated robe and eating cold porridge."

"Then you believe me?"

"I believe you are desperate enough to do stupid things, but not smart enough to execute a treasonous conspiracy," he replied bluntly, walking back to his desk. He picked up a small silver lighter and flicked it open, watching the tiny flame dance before snapping it shut. "However, the Moretti family believes the key is active. They expect a delivery tonight at midnight through the north cove."

"A trap," I realized.

"A slaughter," Lorenzo corrected softly. "Unless we feed them what they expect."