A Poor Single Mom Texted a Mafia Boss by Mistake Asking for Baby Formula Money–What Happened Next..

The Nightmare Returns

Before he could answer, his phone—the secure burner—buzzed in his pocket. Dante pulled it out.

His face went pale. The color drained from his skin so fast J Park thought he was having a heart attack.

“What?” she asked. “What is it?”

“We have to go,” Dante said, grabbing her wrist.

“Now? Why? What’s wrong?”

“Luca just texted from the house,” Dante said, dragging her toward the exit, his gun already appearing in his hand. “The nursery alarm was bypassed. Someone is in the room with Leo.”

J Park’s scream died in her throat as Dante shoved her into the elevator. The gala was over; the nightmare had just begun.

The drive back to the estate felt like a descent into madness. Dante drove the Cadillac like a weapon, weaving through traffic at a hundred miles an hour.

His face was a mask of stone, but his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

“If they hurt him—” J Park whispered, her voice cracking.

She was trembling so hard her teeth chattered.

“If they hurt Leo, they—”

“They won’t,” Dante said, though his voice lacked its usual certainty. “They want leverage. A dead hostage has no value.”

“Who would do this?”

“Someone who knows the codes,” Dante growled. “The nursery has a silent alarm connected to the grid. To bypass it, you need the master key. Only three people have it: me, my brother, and the head of my household staff.”

They screeched through the iron gates of the estate. The scene was wrong.

The lights were blazing, but the guards at the gate were missing. Dante slammed the car into park before it fully stopped.

He kicked the door open, his gun drawn.

“Stay behind me. If I say run, you run.”

J Park ignored him. She ran towards the front door right beside him.

Inside, the silence was deafening. In the foyer, Mrs. Rosie, the stern housekeeper, was tied to a chair, unconscious, a bruise blooming on her temple.

Dante checked her pulse.

“Alive,” he muttered. “They left her to send a message.”

A sound echoed from the upper floor. It was a laugh—a high, frantic, unstable laugh.

J Park gasped.

“Marco!”

Dante’s eyes went black. He moved up the marble staircase, silent as a shadow.

J Park followed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. They reached the nursery door.

It was wide open. Inside, the room was in chaos.

The crib was overturned. And standing by the window, holding Leo awkwardly by his sleep sack, was Marco.

He looked terrible. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes torn.

He held a gun in one shaking hand and the baby in the other. But he wasn’t alone.

Sitting in the rocking chair, smoking a thin cigarette, was Sophia Valente.

“Welcome home, love birds,” Sophia purred.

She looked at Dante.

“You should really change your security codes more often, darling. I memorized them three years ago.”

“Sophia,” Dante said, his voice terrifyingly calm.

He kept his gun trained on Marco’s head.

“Put the baby down, Marco. You’re playing a game you don’t understand.”

“I understand that you have 50 million in the safe downstairs!” Marco screamed. “And I understand that this bitch—” he gestured to J Park with the gun “—stole my son and my life!”

“You sold your son for 50 grand,” Dante reminded him. “I have the receipt.”

“It wasn’t enough!” Marco yelled.

Leo started to wail, sensing the tension. Marco shook the baby roughly.

“Shut up! Shut up or I’ll throw you out the window!”

“No!” J Park screamed, stepping forward. “Marco, look at me. Please, don’t hurt him. He’s your son.”

“He’s your son?” Marco sneered. “To me, he’s just a winning lottery ticket.”

Sophia stood up, smoothing her red dress.

“Here is the deal, Dante. You sign over the shipping contracts to the Valente family, and you admit to the Commission that this sham marriage was a lie. You humiliate yourself.”

“Then you give this loser—” she pointed to Marco “—the cash in the safe. Do that, and the brat lives.”

Dante looked at Sophia.

“You betrayed me for contracts?”

“I betrayed you because you chose her!” Sophia spat, her face twisting into ugliness. “A waitress over me!”

Dante slowly lowered his gun.

“Okay, you win. I’ll open the safe. Just give the boy to J Park.”

“Money first!” Marco shouted.

He backed toward the open balcony doors.

The Price of Safety

The cold night air rushed in. The drop from the balcony was three stories down onto concrete.

“Don’t go near the edge, Marco,” Dante warned, moving inch by inch closer.

“Stay back!” Marco panicked.

He stepped backward onto the balcony. Then everything went wrong at once.

Marco tripped on the hem of the long curtains. His arms flailed.

The gun went off—a deafening bang that shattered the nursery lamp. In his stumble, his grip on Leo loosened.

J Park screamed, a sound that tore her throat apart. Leo slipped from the blanket.

Dante didn’t think. He didn’t calculate.

He didn’t negotiate. He moved faster than humanly possible.

He dove across the room, launching himself toward the balcony just as the baby fell.

“Dante!” J Park shrieked.

Dante’s body hit the floor, sliding onto the balcony. His hand shot out into the dark void.

Silence. For three heartbeats, there was absolute silence.

J Park ran to the railing. She looked down.

Dante was hanging off the edge of the balcony, holding on with one arm, his muscles straining against his suit jacket.

In his other hand, dangling precariously over the drop, he gripped Leo by the back of his sleep sack.

Leo was crying, swinging in the cold wind.

“I’ve got him,” Dante gritted out, his teeth clenched. “I’ve got him.”

Inside the room, Marco scrambled to get up, raising his gun again to shoot Dante while he was helpless.

“Die, you rich prick!” Marco screamed.

“Bang!”

The shot rang out, but Dante didn’t fall. Marco looked down at his chest.

A red flower was blooming on his dirty t-shirt. He looked confused.

He crumpled to the floor, dead. J Park spun around.

Luca, Dante’s head of security, stood in the doorway, his weapon smoking. He had woken up.

“Sophia Valente,” Luca said, stepping over Marco’s body. “You’re under arrest.”

Sophia screamed as Luca’s men swarmed the room. J Park didn’t watch.

“Dante, give him to me!”

With a groan of exertion, Dante swung his arm up. J Park grabbed Leo, pulling the sobbing baby into her arms, burying her face in his neck.

He was safe. He was warm.

She looked back up. Dante pulled himself up over the railing, collapsing onto the cold stone of the balcony floor.

He was gasping for air. J Park dropped to her knees beside him.

She saw blood on his shoulder.

“You’re shot!” she cried, seeing the graze where Marco’s bullet had hit him before he fell.

Dante didn’t look at his wound. He reached out with a shaking hand and touched Leo’s head.

“Is he okay?” Dante rasped.

“He’s fine. You saved him,” J Park sobbed, grabbing Dante’s hand and kissing his bloodied knuckles. “You saved us.”

Dante looked at her, his dark eyes filled with something raw and undeniable.

“I told you,” he whispered before darkness took him. “He’s my son.”