646 The most powerful Mafia boss in New York was about to be blown apart by the woman he planned to marry—but my six-year-old daughter exposed her secret. Minutes later, he claimed us in front of five Mafia dons and declared a war that would change everything.**

Morning brought an uneasy stillness to the estate. Sunlight filtered through the bulletproof glass windows of the penthouse, revealing the true luxury of Damiano’s private sanctuary. But the grand master bedrooms and marble finishes offered little comfort against the reality of our captivity.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of Matteo, Damiano’s right-hand man. He entered carrying several garment bags and a secure tablet.

"Good morning, Miss Sophia," Matteo said respectfully. "Boss requested I bring clothing options for you and little Emma. Also, breakfast is being prepared."

"Thank you, Matteo," I said, holding Emma’s hand as she rubbed her eyes. "Is... is Damiano alright?"

"The boss hasn't slept," Matteo admitted grimly. "We decrypted Marco’s phone. The plot goes deeper than Chicago. Someone inside our own inner circle helped Bianca bypass security to plant that explosive."

My chest tightened. "A traitor in New York?"

"Yes. And until we find out who it is, no one leaves the estate grounds." Matteo placed a small, silver tracking bracelet on the table. "Damiano asks that you wear this. It ensures our security team knows your location every second."

Later that afternoon, Damiano summoned me to his private study—the very room where the bomb had been hidden just eighteen hours earlier. The floorboards beneath his massive oak desk had been pulled up, revealing complex wiring that technicians were still analyzing.

Damiano was standing near the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the expansive gardens below. When I walked in, he turned, his gaze lingering on the simple dress Matteo had provided.

"How is Emma handling everything?" he asked.

"She’s resilient," I said, taking a seat opposite his desk. "She thinks we’re on an extended holiday. But she misses her room... her normal life."

"Normal is a luxury we don't have right now," Damiano remarked, walking over to sit beside me on the leather couch rather than behind his desk. "Sophia, I need to know everything about the night you took this job."

I frowned, confused. "Six months ago? I applied through the agency. I was desperate. My ex-husband left us with nothing but debts, and I needed a job that paid enough to keep a roof over Emma’s head."

Damiano pulled out a file and laid it on the coffee table between us. Inside were detailed background checks, medical records, and bank statements—my entire life laid out in black and white ink.

"Your ex-husband, Julian Vance," Damiano said softly, his dark eyes searching my face.

I froze, the air vanishing from my lungs. "Julian? How... how do you know that name?"

"Julian Vance isn't just an abusive ex who vanished three years ago," Damiano revealed, his voice steady. "He is Vincent Vance’s nephew. Bianca’s cousin."

The world seemed to spin. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself. "No... no, that’s impossible. Julian was just a failed businessman. He never mentioned Chicago. He never—"

"He used a false identity to hide from his family’s debts," Damiano interrupted gently. "When he abandoned you, he returned to Chicago. Sophia... Emma isn't just an innocent witness who stumbled onto a bomb."