When His Maid Didn’t Show Up, the Mafia Boss Went Himself — And Saw the Truth

She coughed as the fire burned her throat.

“Lily can sleep in the adjoining room,” Victoriao said.

“It has a lock. You will have the key. No one enters unless you allow it—not even me.” He promised.

Camila looked at him, her large dark eyes searching his face for the catch. There was always a catch. Men didn’t do favors, especially not Mafia Dons.

She pulled a small notepad from her pocket and a pen. She wrote quickly and held it up.

“Why?” The note asked.

Victoriao looked at the single word. He took a sip of his drink.

“Because you belong to me,” He said simply.

Camila stiffened.

“Not in that way,” He corrected, seeing her fear.

“You are my employee. You are under my protection. An insult to you is an insult to me.” He explained.

“Those animals broke into my staff’s home. They threatened a child. I cleaned up the mess.” He said.

He walked closer to her. He reached out, and she flinched, but he only gently tilted her chin up to inspect the bruise on her jaw. His fingers were warm, rough, and calloused.

“Who was he?” Victoriao asked.

“The man I killed. Why did he say you owed money?” He inquired.

Camila bit her lip. She wrote again.

“My sister’s debt. Her boyfriend was a dealer. He stole from the sharks and ran. They killed my sister. Now they want the money from me.” She explained via the note.

Victoria read the note, and his expression darkened.

“How much?” He asked.

She wrote, “$50,000,000.”

Victoria scoffed, a dark humorous sound.

“50,000? People die for 50,000. I carry that in my pocket.” He said.

He turned away, walking towards the window to look out at the city.

“The debt is paid. The man is dead. The sharks will learn by morning that apartment 4B is under Rossi protection.” He stated.

“If they touch you again, I will burn their territory to ash.” He vowed.

He turned back to her.

“Go wash up. There are clothes in the closet my sister used to stay there; they might fit. Dinner is at eight.” He instructed.

“And Camila,” He paused.

She paused at the hallway entrance, Lily heavy in her arms.

“You don’t clean anymore,” He said.

“Not while you are hurt. Tonight, you are a guest.” He told her.

Camila nodded slowly. She turned and fled down the hall. As soon as she was gone, Dante stepped closer to Victoria.

“Boss, you know the sharks are a subsidiary of the Moretti family,” Dante said quietly.

“Killing their collector—that’s an act of war over a maid.” Dante warned.

“She isn’t just a maid,” Victoriao murmured, staring at the spot where she had stood.

He remembered the way she had held that knife, the way she had put her body between the thug and the child.

“What is she then?” Dante asked.

“She’s a survivor,” Victoriao said.

“And she’s hiding something else. Did you see the knife work, the way she held the grip? That wasn’t a scared girl holding a kitchen knife; that was a defensive stance. Someone taught her how to fight.” He observed.

Dante frowned.

“You think she’s a plant? A spy?” Dante asked.

“No,” Victoriao said.

“I think she’s someone who fell from a high place, and I intend to find out where she landed from.” He decided.

A New Identity

Camila stood under the scalding hot water of the shower in the East Suite. The marble tiles felt like a dream compared to the mildew-stained plastic of her apartment. She washed the grime of the slums off her skin, but the fear wouldn’t wash away.

She looked at herself in the fogged mirror; the bruise on her jaw was blooming violet. She wasn’t just Camila Vance, the mute maid. Five years ago, her name had been Camila Sterling, daughter of Arthur Sterling, a disgraced federal judge who had been caught taking bribes from the cartels.

When her father went to prison and subsequently committed suicide in his cell, the enemies he had made came for the family. Her sister, Sarah, had fallen into drugs and bad men to survive. Camila had gone underground, feigning mutism to avoid being recognized by anyone who might know the Sterling voice—a voice that had once been recorded on wiretaps.

She had learned to be invisible, but Victoriao Rossi had seen her. She dressed in a silk robe she found in the closet, checking on Lily. The little girl was sound asleep in the massive feather bed, clutching a teddy bear that must have cost a fortune.

Camila walked out into the main living area. Victoria was sitting by the fire reading a file—her file. [