686 The Mafia Boss Pointed a Gun at the Nanny Saving His Choking Baby, but a Broken Pacifier Bead and One Hidden Camera Exposed the Traitor Inside His House

By 3:00 AM, the grand drawing room of the Romano estate had become an interrogation chamber.

Outside, the rain beat a relentless rhythm against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Inside, the fire roared in the marble fireplace, casting long, menacing shadows across the velvet sofas and mahogany paneling.

Alessio sat in a high-backed leather armchair, the picture of absolute, terrifying authority. On his left stood two armed guards. On his right stood Dominic. I sat on the sofa opposite him, cradling Leo, who had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep against my chest.

Gathered in front of us were the primary suspects—the core of the Romano household.

Elena Romano, Alessio’s younger sister, sat nervously on the edge of a chair, clutching a silk handkerchief. Her eyes darted repeatedly to the floor.

Vincenzo Romano, Alessio’s uncle and the old guard of the family syndicate, leaned on his gold-headed cane, his face a mask of arrogant disdain.

And Martha, the old head housekeeper who had served the Romano family for thirty years, stood with her hands folded neatly in front of her apron, though her knuckles were white.

"One of you," Alessio began, his voice dangerously quiet, "stepped into my son's nursery tonight. One of you cut the security feed. And one of you tried to choke my heir with a bead snapped from a piece of jewelry."

"Alessio, this is madness!" Uncle Vincenzo snapped, banging his cane against the rug. "You bring us down here in the middle of the night, treat us like common criminals, all because of some... some choking incident? Babies swallow things! It’s what they do!"

"He didn't swallow it, Uncle," I cut in sharply, ignoring the glare Vincenzo threw my way. "The bead was far too large to be ingested accidentally without gagging first. It was pushed into the back of his throat while he was asleep. And the camera wire was manually cut two minutes prior."

Vincenzo turned his glare on me, his lip curling in contempt. "And who are you to speak to me, girl? A glorified servant! How do we know you didn't do it? You were the only one in the room!"

"If Clara wanted him dead, she simply had to do nothing," Alessio barked, the sudden force of his voice echoing through the room. Vincenzo recoiled slightly. "She extracted the object. She saved his life while I was ready to pull the trigger on her. Her loyalty is proven. Yours, however, is on trial."

"Alessio, please," Elena sobbed, her voice trembling. "You can't suspect me! I love Leo! I brought him those handcrafted wooden toys just yesterday!"

"Handcrafted toys," I repeated slowly. A memory sparked in my mind. "Elena... didn't those toys come wrapped in a blue velvet pouch with a beaded drawstring?"

Elena’s face drained of color. "What? No! I mean... yes, but I left the pouch downstairs in the parlor!"

"Dominic," Alessio commanded without looking away from his sister. "Search Elena's room. Search Vincenzo's study. Search the staff quarters. I want every piece of jewelry, every tool, and every piece of clothing inspected."

"Right away, Boss," Dominic bowed and gestured for two guards to follow him upstairs.

Vincenzo stood up, his face flushed with rage. "This is an insult! I helped your father build this empire, Alessio! I bled for the Romano name while you were still learning how to fire a gun! You dare search my personal study over the word of a common nanny?"

"I dare whatever I please in my house, Uncle," Alessio said, standing up slowly. His towering frame instantly dominated the room. "If my father were alive today, he would have already put a bullet through the head of anyone even remotely suspected of harming his grandson. Be grateful I am showing restraint."

The tension in the room was a taut wire ready to snap. I watched the suspects carefully, analyzing every micro-expression.

Vincenzo was angry, defensive, and desperate to assert authority. Elena was terrified, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she adjusted her diamond bracelet. Martha... Martha remained unnaturally still. Her eyes weren't on Alessio, nor were they on Vincenzo. She was staring intently at the plastic evidence bag resting on the side table near my hand.

Why was the housekeeper staring at the bead?

Before I could ponder further, heavy footsteps echoed down the grand staircase. Dominic returned, holding a small silver tray. On it rested a pair of fine needle-nosed pliers... and a broken silver bracelet with missing blue enamel beads.

The entire room went dead silent.