Dominic Vale had hired eighteen nannies to control his traumatized son, but when Noah attacked me, I noticed something in his eyes that made me question everything. The eighteenth nanny fled the mansion with blood running down her forehead, screaming that four-year-old Noah Vale was “not right”—and by that afternoon, I was kneeling in front of the same little boy while one of Chicago’s most feared mafia bosses watched from the staircase.

I did not flinch when the heavy bronze statue struck my ribs for the second time.

The agonizing pain radiating through my side was nothing compared to the absolute panic I saw in Noah's dark eyes.

He raised his small fists to strike me again, but instead of screaming or grabbing his arms, I slowly opened my empty hands.

"I know you are scared," I whispered so softly that only he could hear me over the chaotic echoes of the marble foyer.

Noah froze entirely, his chest heaving as he stared at my unthreatening posture.

I gently lowered my head, making myself smaller than him, proving that I was not a threat to his safety.

The heavy bronze horse slipped from his trembling fingers and crashed loudly onto the pristine floor.

Noah collapsed against my chest, burying his face into my cheap uniform as violent, silent sobs shook his tiny body.

I wrapped my arms around him protectively, entirely ignoring the stinging pain in my ribs.

From the top of the grand staircase, Dominic Vale watched the entire impossible scene unfold in absolute silence.

The feared mafia boss slowly descended the stairs, his expensive leather shoes making no sound against the white stone.

His dark, calculating eyes locked onto me, carrying a weight that made the air in the room feel incredibly thin.

"Eighteen highly trained professionals could not even touch my son without being hospitalized," Dominic stated, his deep voice vibrating with authority.

"She doesn't need to clean the floors anymore, Mrs. Hargrove," he announced without breaking eye contact with me.

"Miss Reed is officially the new nanny, and her salary is now whatever she asks for."

The house manager gasped in shock, but I was too overwhelmed by the sudden salvation of my brother's surgical funds to care about her jealousy.

Later that evening, after finally coercing an exhausted Noah to sleep in his massive bed, I knelt on the foyer floor to clean up my spilled water bucket.

I picked up the heavy bronze horse Noah had used as a weapon, noticing a strange, unnatural crack along the horse's metallic mane.

My fingernail accidentally pressed against the crack, causing a small, concealed compartment to pop open.