In The Restaurant, The Mafia Boss’s Baby Wouldn’t Stop Crying — Until A Single Mother Did The Unth..

The Treachery of a Father

Three days later, they were moved to a safe house. It was a penthouse overlooking the Chicago River, completely off the books.

The windows were bulletproof; the elevator required a retinal scan. And the fridge was fully stocked.

Julian was recovering with a speed that defied medical science. He was already sitting up, working on a laptop, ignoring the doctor’s orders to rest.

But the atmosphere in the penthouse was tense. Sarah was in the kitchen making tea.

She watched Julian through the open living room door. He was talking to Marco.

His voice was low, dangerous.

“Find out how they knew,” Julian was saying. “The kitchen door. The timing. They knew exactly when the shift change was. They knew I was taking the armored SUV, not the sedan. That was an inside job.”

“We’re scrubbing the comms, Boss,” Marco said. “We found a burner phone on the shooter in the kitchen. We’re decrypting it now.”

Sarah walked in with the tea. She set it down on the table.

Julian looked up at her. His eyes softened, but the tension in his jaw remained.

“You should be resting,” She said.

“I can’t rest while there is a rat in my house,” Julian replied.

“Maybe it wasn’t a rat,” Sarah said. “Maybe they just got lucky.”

“There is no luck in this business, Sarah. Only strategy and betrayal.”

Just then, Marco’s tablet pinged. He looked down at the screen, and his face went white.

He looked at Julian, then at Sarah, then back at the tablet.

“What?” Julian barked.

“Boss, the burner phone. The last call received. It wasn’t from one of our guys.”

“Who was it?”

Marco swallowed hard.

“It was from a registered number—a prepaid cell found in the possession of Gary Bennett.”

The room went silent. The air was sucked out of the penthouse.

Sarah felt the blood drain from her face.

“What?”

“Your ex-husband,” Julian said, his voice deadly calm.

He looked at Sarah, but his eyes weren’t accusing; they were calculating.

“He sold us out.”

“No,” Sarah shook her head. “Gary is a gambler. He’s a loser. But he’s not—he doesn’t know anything about you. How could he know the layout? The schedule?”

Julian turned his gaze to Lily, who was playing with blocks in the corner of the room.

“Visitation,” Julian said softly.

Sarah felt sick. He—he asked her?

“Lily,” Julian called out gently.

The little girl looked up.

“Yes, Mr. Julian?”

“When you saw your daddy last week, did he play a game with you? Did he ask you about the house?”

Lily nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes, we played spy! He asked me to draw a map of the castle. He wanted to know where the Sleeping Beauty slept and where the guard stood. He said he was going to send me a surprise.”

Sarah clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. The betrayal was so visceral, it physically hurt.

Her ex-husband had used their daughter to draw a map for assassins. He had sold their lives—Lily’s life—to pay off his gambling debts.

“Oh my god,” Sarah wept. “It’s my fault. I let him see her. I brought this to your door.”

She turned to run, to hide, to leave. She couldn’t be here.

She was the leak.

“Sarah!” Julian’s voice cracked like a whip.

He winced as he forced himself up from the couch, ignoring the pain in his side. He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

“Let me go!” She sobbed. “I have to leave. I’m a danger to you.”

“You are not going anywhere,” Julian growled.

He pulled her closer, his good hand cupping her face, forcing her to look at him.

“This is not your fault. This is the act of a desperate, evil man. Do not take his sin and make it yours.”

“But he used her. He used me.”

“And he will pay for it,” Julian vowed.

The darkness in his eyes was terrifying, but it wasn’t directed at her.

“He thinks he sold me out to Viti. But all he did was sign his own death warrant.”

“I can’t stay,” Sarah whispered, tears streaming down her face. “Look at this life, Julian. Guns, blood. My daughter drawing maps for killers. I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Julian said.

His voice dropped to a whisper; his thumb brushed away a tear on her cheek.

“Because you are the strongest person I have ever met. You walked into a kitchen with a vase to fight a hitman. You saved my son. You saved me.”

“I was terrified,” She admitted.

“Fear doesn’t make you weak. It makes you smart.”

He looked at her lips. The distance between them vanished.

The adrenaline, the fear, the relief—it all culminated in this single moment. Julian lowered his head and kissed her.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was desperate.

It tasted of tea and danger and promise. Sarah froze for a heartbeat, and then she melted into him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, careful of his wound, and held on as if he were the only solid thing in a spinning world. When they pulled apart, breathless, Julian rested his forehead against hers.

“You are not the nanny,” He rasped. “Not anymore. You are mine, and I protect what is mine.”

“What are you going to do?” Sarah asked, fear for Gary, despite everything, still lingering.

Not because she loved him, but because he was Lily’s father.

Julian’s eyes hardened.

“I’m going to finish the custody battle tonight.”