Three weeks after burying her own baby, a grieving maid walked into a Mafia boss’s mansion—and his nine-month-old son suddenly stopped crying the moment she held him. But when the father checked the security footage to find out why, he discovered a terrifying secret hidden beneath the baby’s crib… and realized the woman in his arms was connected to his family in a way no one could explain.

Time seemed to slow to a microscopic crawl.

Arthur’s thumb hovered directly over the red button on the wireless detonator.

“Step back, all of you,” Arthur commanded, his eyes gleaming with mad triumph. “The entire basement level is rigged with high-grade C-4. One click, and this entire mansion becomes a tomb. You, your son, and your precious little maid will burn to ash.”

Marcus raised his pistol, aiming squarely at Arthur’s chest. “Don't move an inch, you bastard, or I’ll blow your heart out before your thumb hits that plastic.”

“Do it,” Arthur taunt-laughed, his finger pressing down halfway. “My dead hand will contract on the spring. Try me.”

Matteo didn't panic. The cold, ruthless calculation of the underworld king took over every fiber of his being. He knew Arthur was a fanatic—a corporate mercenary who valued nothing except the completion of his contract. Shooting him immediately was a fifty-fifty gamble on whether the dead-man switch would trigger.

They needed an angle.

Liana didn't wait for Matteo to calculate the risk.

While Arthur’s attention was locked entirely on Matteo and Marcus, Liana moved with the silent, desperate speed of a mother who had already lost everything once and refused to let it happen again.

She snatched a heavy brass desk clock from the edge of the mahogany table.

Before Arthur could react, Liana lunged forward and hurled the heavy brass object directly at Arthur’s wrist with all her remaining strength.

Clang!

The brass clock struck Arthur’s forearm with bone-crushing force.

Arthur yelled out in agony, his grip shattering instantly. The red detonator slipped from his fingers, clattering uselessly across the Persian rug.

Marcus lunged forward like a striking panther, tackling Arthur to the floor and driving the butt of his pistol squarely into the traitor’s jaw, knocking him out cold in a single, brutal blow.

Arthur slumped sideways, unconscious, blood pooling slightly from his split lip.

The room erupted into ragged, heavy breathing.

Matteo stood frozen for a second, staring at the fallen detonator, then up at Liana. Her chest was heaving, her hands trembling, but her eyes were fierce and unbroken.

“You’re insane,” Matteo breathed, a mixture of shock and profound awe in his voice.

“No,” Liana said quietly, wiping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “I’m just tired of running.”