528 I secretly brought my baby to work, knowing one complaint could get me fired, only to discover she had vanished during the dinner rush. Then I opened the forbidden downstairs office—and found the city’s most feared mafia boss asleep with my daughter curled against his chest.

The silence in the room was heavy enough to crush the air right out of my lungs.

Victor Vance—the man whose name was whispered in dark alleys, the man whose shadow governed half the city’s underground empire—was staring directly at me. His icy blue eyes, sharp as shattered glass, locked onto mine.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe.

There he was, sprawling across an expensive charcoal-leather couch, his tailored suit jacket discarded on a nearby armchair. And right on his chest, tucked safely beneath the folds of his dark vest, was my seven-month-old daughter, Ellie. Her tiny hands were clutching the lapel of his shirt, her cheek resting over the steady thud of his heart. One of his massive, calloused hands was gently cupped over her back, holding her so securely that she didn't even stir when the door burst open.

My manager, Donald, skidded to a halt behind me, panting heavily. His face had turned a sickly shade of white.

"Mr. Vance!" Donald stammered, his voice trembling violently. "I—I am so sorry! This idiot waitress pushed right past me. I’m calling security right now to throw her out—"

"Shut up, Donald," Victor’s voice came out as a low, gravelly rasp. It wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a blade.

Donald froze instantly, his mouth snapping shut.

Victor slowly sat up, moving with a deliberate, hypnotic care so as not to startle the baby. Ellie made a soft snuffling sound, rubbing her small nose against his dress shirt before sinking back to sleep. Victor looked down at her for a fraction of a second, his expression unreadable, before raising his gaze to me.

"Is this yours?" he asked.

"Yes," I gasped, the word barely escaping my throat. "She’s mine. I’m... I’m so sorry, sir. Please. Just let me take her, and I’ll leave. I’ll pack my things and never come back."

I stepped forward, my hands trembling violently as I reached out for my baby. Every instinct in my body was screaming at me to grab Ellie and run. But before I could touch her, Victor raised a single finger, stopping me in my tracks.

"How did she get down here, Lena?" Victor asked softly.

My heart did a terrifying leap. He knows my name.

"I... I brought her to work," I confessed, my eyes filling with tears I couldn't hold back. "My babysitter canceled. I didn't have anyone else. I couldn't afford daycare, and if I missed my shift, I’d lose this job... and if I lose this job, my baby and I will be on the street. I hid her in the storage room. I don't know how she got down here. I swear I didn't mean to trespass."

"She didn't walk down here on her own," Victor said, his tone flat. "She’s seven months old."

"I... I know. Someone must have..."

Victor glanced toward the corner of the room. Following his gaze, I saw Marcus, his head of security, standing silently in the shadows.

"I found the child in the service corridor ten minutes ago, boss," Marcus spoke in a calm, disciplined voice. "Someone had moved her from the supply closet and left her near the basement steps. She was crawling toward the stairs. She would have fallen if I hadn't intercepted her. I brought her in here because you were the only one down this hall."

A wave of pure horror washed over me. Someone had moved her. Someone had intentionally placed my baby near a steep flight of concrete stairs.

I turned my head and looked at Donald. My manager’s eyes were darting nervously around the room, sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Donald," Victor said, his voice dripping with danger as he cradled Ellie close to his chest. "Why was there an unsupervised infant near the basement stairs?"

"I—I don't know, Mr. Vance!" Donald stammered, backing away slightly. "Lena is irresponsible! She broke the rules! She brought a child into a high-class establishment! I was just about to fire her—"

"You knew the child was in the building," Victor interrupted smoothly. It wasn't a question; it was a statement. "You saw Lena checking the closet earlier, didn't you?"

Donald choked on his breath. "I... I..."

"You wanted her gone," Victor continued, his eyes darkening into something truly terrifying. "So you moved the child to create a liability. You risked a infant's life just to have a reason to terminate an employee without severance."

"No! That’s not true!" Donald cried out.

Victor didn't raise his voice. He simply adjusted his hold on Ellie, supporting her little neck as he slowly stood up from the couch. He was towering—at least six-foot-three, built like a brick wall, radiating power and lethality. Yet, he held my baby with a gentleness that looked almost bizarre given his formidable presence.

He walked slowly toward Donald. Donald shrank back against the doorframe, visibly shaking.

"Marcus," Victor said calmly.

"Yes, boss?"

"Donald is no longer the manager of this restaurant." Victor’s eyes remained fixed on Donald. "Escort him out. Make sure he understands that if I ever see his face in this district again, he won't be walking out on his own two feet."

"Understood." Marcus stepped forward, grabbing Donald by the collar of his suit jacket and dragging him out of the office like a sack of trash. Donald didn't even dare to scream.

The door clicked shut. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence once again.

Now, it was just me and the city’s most dangerous man.

Victor turned back to me. He looked at me for a long moment—taking in my worn-out server uniform, the dark circles under my eyes, and the sheer terror radiating off my body.

"Take her," he murmured, stepping closer.

I stepped in, my hands shaking as I reached out. As I took Ellie into my arms, our fingers brushed. His skin was warm, his touch sending a strange, electric jolt through my spine. I pulled Ellie tight against my chest, burying my face in her soft hair, tears finally spilling over my cheeks.

"Thank you," I sobbed quietly. "Thank you for saving her."

Victor reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a clean silk handkerchief. He handed it to me without a word.

"Your husband," Victor said softly, his voice cutting through my soft cries. "Julian Vance. He died seven months ago, didn't he?"

My head snapped up in shock. How did he know my late husband’s name?

"You... you knew Julian?" I whispered.