The Maid Screamed That the Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Was Slitting the Baby’s Throat Until His First Breath Exposed Who Had Really Come to Kill Him

Six months later.

The summer sun was shining brightly over Lake Michigan, casting a golden glare across the lush, manicured lawns of the Moretti estate. The blood-soaked storm of the past was gone, replaced by an air of absolute peace and immense prosperity.

With the collapse of the Northern Alliance, Dante Moretti had consolidated every shipping route, depot, and commercial line from Chicago to the Canadian border. He was no longer just the head of a syndicate; he was the undisputed king of the entire Midwest logistics network.

And at his side, as a full partner in every business venture, sat Vivienne Cross-Moretti.

In the gardens overlooking the lake, a grand celebration was underway. The estate was decorated with white roses, crystal chandeliers hanging from open-air pavilions, and music playing softly in the background.

Vivienne stood near the marble fountain, wearing an exquisite emerald-green silk gown that complemented her dark auburn hair. In her arms, she held little Leo.

The baby was now a healthy, chubby one-year-old with a bright smile and full cheeks. The small scar on his throat was barely visible—a tiny silver line that only served as a testament to the night his mother in spirit had saved his life.

Dante walked up behind them, wrapping his broad arms around Vivienne’s waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He wore a perfectly tailored dark blue suit.

"He looks more like Marco every day," Dante said softly, reaching out to let Leo grab his index finger. Leo let out a delighted giggle, kicking his feet.

"He has your eyes, though," Vivienne smiled, leaning back against Dante’s chest. "Demanding and persistent."

"I prefer the word 'authoritative,'" Dante chuckled, kissing the side of her neck.

Sal Mercer and Clara Vance were long forgotten, locked away or buried deep beneath the city. The Moretti house was clean, secured by men whose loyalty was beyond question.

A black town car pulled up the long driveway, and a man in a crisp suit stepped out, holding a thick leather briefcase. It was Arthur Pendelton, the head of the State Medical Board.

Pendelton walked up the stone steps into the garden, looking nervous as two armed guards cleared his path. He stopped in front of Dante and Vivienne, taking off his hat.

"Mrs. Moretti... Mr. Moretti," Pendelton said politely, bowing his head slightly.

"Mr. Pendelton," Vivienne said, her tone cool and professional. "I assume you have the documents?"

"Yes, ma'am," Pendelton said hastily, opening his briefcase and pulling out an official state document bearing the gold seal of the Department of Health. "The board has held an emergency review of your file. Dr. Marcus—the physician whose negligence you reported two years ago—has confessed to falsifying records. The former board members involved in your suspension have all been removed."

Pendelton handed the paper to Vivienne.

"Your medical license has been fully reinstated with honors, Dr. Cross," Pendelton announced. "Furthermore, the state is offering you the position of Chief of Trauma Surgery at Ashbury Medical Center."

Vivienne looked down at the parchment. For two years, this piece of paper was the only thing she had ever wanted. It was the redemption she had fought for, the validation of her entire life’s work.

She gently touched the gold seal, then looked up at Dante. He was watching her proudly, his dark eyes filled with absolute admiration.

"Thank you, Mr. Pendelton," Vivienne said smoothly. She handed the document to Dante, who took it with a proud smile. "However, I will not be accepting the Chief of Surgery position at Ashbury."

Pendelton blinked in surprise. "You... you won't?"

"I am opening a new, private trauma and emergency clinic on the South Side," Vivienne announced, holding Leo securely against her hip. "Fully funded by Moretti Consolidated. It will provide free surgical care for underprivileged families, and I will be directing it personally."