On Christmas Eve, Mafia boss Dominic Moretti found his maid’s three-year-old daughter sitting alone beneath the grand staircase, clutching a photograph and whispering, “I’m waiting for my mom.” He almost walked past her, until he saw the woman in the picture. It was Sophia, the woman he had loved and searched for four years earlier, and before sunrise, Dominic would discover his own mother had known exactly why she disappeared.

The digital timer on the detonator screen was flashing bright red, indicating we had exactly four minutes left.

“Enzo, initiate a total emergency evacuation of the ballroom immediately!” I screamed into my earpiece.

I grabbed Isabella by her uninjured arm and dragged her forcefully up from the bloody snow.

“Where are the explosives hidden?” I roared, pressing my gun directly under her chin.

Isabella spat blood onto the white snow, smiling through her excruciating pain.

“You are going to burn to death right along with your precious legacy, Dominic.”

I didn't have time to interrogate a fanatic.

I handed Lily to my mother, ordering her to get to the armored vehicles in the underground garage.

“I am not leaving without you, Dominic,” my mother protested, clutching her granddaughter tightly.

“Go now, or we all die!” I shouted, pushing them toward the secret tunnel entrance.

Enzo ran out into the courtyard, breathless and covered in sweat.

“The guests are clearing out, but I found the main charge strapped to the structural pillars in the basement,” Enzo reported rapidly.

I left Isabella bleeding in the snow and sprinted alongside Enzo down to the mansion's massive wine cellar.

The explosive device was incredibly sophisticated, wired directly into the estate’s main gas line.

If this went off, the entire block would be completely leveled into dust.

“We have sixty seconds,” Enzo panicked, pulling a tactical knife from his vest.

I analyzed the chaotic mess of red and blue wires, my military training desperately kicking in.

I gripped the blue wire, praying to God that my instincts were completely accurate.

I sliced the wire, and the digital timer instantly froze at exactly three seconds.

I let out a massive breath of relief, stepping back from the defused bomb.

Suddenly, my encrypted cell phone began vibrating violently in my pocket.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

I answered the call, hearing the dark, raspy voice of Carlo Vitale on the other end.

“Congratulations on surviving the fireworks, Dominic, but I still have the real prize tied to a chair.”

Chapter 4 - The Ticking Clock