Chapter 5 - The Gentle Giant of the Underworld
Lily instinctively flinched back, her hands rising defensively.
Victor stopped. His large, calloused hand hovered in the air between them, empty and surprisingly still. He looked at her bruised face, his eyes lingering on the split lip and the dirt smudged across her cheek. A profound, dark shadow passed through his gaze—a mixture of deep self-loathing and raw gratitude.
"You took a blow meant for my son," Victor said, his voice losing its frozen edge, replaced by a deep, rumbling gravity.
"I couldn't let her hurt him," Lily whispered, her voice cracking slightly. "He's just a baby. He loves her... or he tried to."
Victor carefully reached out and gently scooped up fourteen-month-old Ethan into his arms. It was a movement of terrifying gentleness, executed with the practiced ease of a man who held absolute power yet knew how fragile life truly was. Ethan whimpered, burying his tear-streaked face into the crook of his father's broad shoulder. Victor kissed the top of the toddler's head, whispering low, soothing words in Italian that Lily couldn't quite catch.
Then, Victor looked back at Lily. "Marcus," he called out without turning around.
The bodyguard reappeared from the East Wing hallway, his expression stone-cold. "Yes, Boss?"
"Call Dr. Vance. Tell him to bring his trauma kit and come through the private security gate immediately. Also, have the estate physician check Miss... what is your last name?" Victor asked, his eyes fixing on Lily.
"Evans. Lily Evans."
"Miss Evans for broken ribs and internal bruising," Victor finished, his tone leaving no room for argument. He stood up, towering over her once more, but the threat was gone, replaced by an unshakable command structure. "Can you stand?"
Lily tried to push herself up, but a sharp wave of nausea and pain ripped through her abdomen. She gasped, her legs buckling beneath her.
Before she hit the floor, a strong, iron-clad arm caught her by the waist, effortlessly lifting her up. Lily found herself pressed against the solid chest of the Chicago mafia boss, inhaling the clean scent of cedarwood, leather, and faint gunsmoke. Her cheeks flushed hot despite her agony.
"I've got you," Victor said quietly. He turned and began walking toward the grand staircase, carrying his injured son in one arm and supporting the bruised nanny with the other. "Marcus, clear out the guest suite on the third floor next to the nursery. Miss Evans is moving in."
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Lily’s eyes widened in shock as they ascended the grand staircase. "Wh-what? I can't stay here in the master wing. I'm just the nanny—"
"You are the only person in this house who risked her life to protect my blood," Victor interrupted, his voice dropping into a tone of absolute, unbreakable finality. "From now on, nobody touches you. And nobody threatens you ever again."
