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.

Marco tossed me a spare tactical shotgun and led the way down the hidden servant stairs.

The sounds of my men violently dismantling the Vitale guards echoed faintly from the upper floors.

We reached the heavy steel door of the subterranean interrogation cell, deeply hidden in the bedrock of the estate.

Marco pressed his thumb against the biometric scanner, and the massive door groaned loudly as it slid open.

I stepped into the freezing, damp room, my heart completely stopping in my chest.

Sophia was securely strapped to a heavy metal chair in the center of the room, looking battered but fiercely defiant.

She locked eyes with me, a mixture of profound shock and overwhelming relief flooding her beautiful face.

“Dominic,” she whispered, her voice incredibly hoarse and weak.

Before I could rush to her side, Carlo Vitale stepped out from the deep shadows of the corner.

He was holding a heavy detonator switch, completely wired to a massive block of plastic explosives strapped to Sophia's chair.

“Drop the weapons, gentlemen, or the beautiful bride-to-be becomes red mist,” Carlo commanded smoothly.

I slowly lowered the shotgun to the concrete floor, raising my hands in absolute surrender.

“Let her walk away, Carlo, and I will gladly take her place in that chair,” I offered without a single hesitation.

Carlo laughed, a sick, satisfied sound that made my blood boil with sheer hatred.

“You are going to watch her die, Dominic, and then I am going to hunt down your little bastard child.”

Marco suddenly lunged forward with a furious, animalistic scream, tackling Carlo violently against the concrete wall.

The detonator slipped from Carlo’s hand, clattering loudly onto the cold floor just inches from my boots.

I dove fiercely for the device, grabbing it tightly just as Carlo pulled a hidden knife and plunged it deep into Marco’s side.

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

Marco collapsed in agony, and Carlo frantically kicked the detonator completely out of my hands.

The device hit the wall and shattered, instantly activating the blinking, sixty-second countdown sequence on the explosive vest.

Chapter 7 - The Interrogation Cell