She thought she could easily silence a helpless nanny, until the terrifying footsteps of the mafia boss echoed from the shadows behind her.

The master suite smelled of antiseptic, fresh linen, and old leather.

Lily woke to the sharp, pungent scent of smelling salts. She gasped, jerking upright, but a firm, warm hand instantly pressed against her shoulder, keeping her anchored to the mattress.

“Easy,” a calm, professional voice said. “Deep breaths, Miss Vance. You have two fractured ribs and severe soft-tissue bruising along your abdominal wall. Sudden movement will cause tearing.”

Lily’s eyes darted frantically around the room.

This wasn't her small bedroom on the third floor. This was the master suite—a space she had entered only twice in six months, always to return laundered shirts. The bed was immense, draped in dark navy silk. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the stormy expanse of Lake Michigan, where lightning fractured the midnight sky.

“Ethan,” Lily choked out, grabbing the sleeve of the man hovering over her.

Dr. Evans, a distinguished man in his sixties with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses, offered a gentle, reassuring smile. “He is resting. I reduced the dislocation under mild sedation and casted his arm. No permanent nerve damage, thank God. But he was in immense pain. His father hasn't left his side.”

Lily turned her head.

Across the room, sitting in a heavy leather armchair beneath the dim glow of a floor lamp, was Victor Blackwood.

His tailored coat was gone. His crisp white dress shirt had the top three buttons undone, the sleeves rolled up to reveal thick forearms covered in intricate, dark tattoos—symbols of the syndicate, tallies of survival, and ancient Latin script. On his broad chest, swaddled in a soft gray cashmere blanket, lay Ethan.

The baby was deeply asleep, his small, uninjured hand curled tightly around his father’s thumb. Even in sleep, the boy’s chest rose and fell in sync with the giant holding him.

Victor was staring at Lily.

His slate eyes were unreadable, but the dark circles beneath them revealed hours of silent vigilance. The mahogany side table beside his chair held a half-empty glass of scotch and a velvet box. Inside the open box rested Serena’s three-million-dollar pear-cut diamond engagement ring, tossed aside like a piece of worthless gravel.

“Doctor,” Victor’s voice cut through the quiet room. “Is she stable?”

“She requires strict bed rest for at least two weeks, Mr. Blackwood,” Evans replied, closing his medical bag. “I’ve administered pain management and an anti-inflammatory. The blunt force to her abdomen was severe. Had the heel struck half an inch lower, we would be looking at internal hemorrhaging.”

Victor’s jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. “Leave the medication on the table. Dominic will escort you out.”

“Of course. Take care of that boy, Victor. And take care of her.”

Dr. Evans bowed his head respectfully and exited, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him.

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. The only sounds were the distant roll of thunder against the glass and the rhythmic, soft breathing of the toddler.

Lily tried to pull the duvet higher over her chest, suddenly intensely aware that she was wearing one of Victor’s oversized silk shirts, her torn nanny uniform having been removed by the medical staff.

“You should be resting,” Lily said, her voice small and rough.

Victor did not move. He slowly stroked Ethan’s dark curls with the back of a finger. “You threw yourself between my son and a woman twice your size wearing weapons on her feet.”

“I didn't think about her feet,” Lily murmured, looking down at her bruised hands. “I only saw him. He was turning blue, Mr. Blackwood. If I hadn't jumped, she would have pulled his arm completely out of the socket. She was furious because he spilled milk on her handbag.”

“She was furious,” Victor said, his tone dropping into a deadly register, “because she realized Ethan will always be the center of this household. And she realized I would never allow her to rule it.”

He shifted slightly, standing up from the armchair with seamless, predatory grace. Ethan didn't even stir. Victor walked slowly toward the bed, looking down at Lily.

Up close, the sheer physical presence of the man was overwhelming. Victor Blackwood stood six-foot-three, built like a battering ram, his face carved from harsh, unforgiving angles. A thin, pale scar ran along his jawline—a souvenir from a car bomb five years ago.

He stopped at the edge of the mattress.

“Julian Montigue contacted me twenty minutes ago,” Victor said.

Lily’s heart seized. “Ethan’s grandfather?”

“Julian is Serena’s father. He is not Ethan’s grandfather,” Victor corrected sharply, his eyes flashing. “My late wife was a Valenti. The Montigues are merely merchants who fancied themselves kings because they control the river berths.”

“What did he say?” Lily asked, fear curling in her belly. She knew how the syndicate operated; she had grown up in the shadow of their turf wars. “If you hurt Serena, her family will start a war.”

Victor smiled. It was a cold, terrifying flash of white teeth that held zero warmth.

“Julian threatened to pull his cargo ships from my docks. He threatened to go to the Commission and claim I broke the treaty.” Victor leaned in slightly, his eyes boring into hers. “He told me I was overreacting over a clumsy domestic accident.”

“Accident?” Lily breathed, indignation flaring through her pain. “She tortured your baby!”

“I sent Julian a video file,” Victor continued smoothly.

Lily blinked. “What video?”

Victor reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim thumb drive, tossing it onto the bedside table. “The nursery has hidden feeds. So does the hallway, the foyer, and the portico. I installed them the day Ethan was born. Serena thought she found every camera three months ago. She found the decoys.”

Lily’s breath caught. “You have the footage?”

“Every second,” Victor said. “I have Serena dragging him. I have her striking you. I have audio of her stating that no one would believe an orphan nanny, and that she would have me put a bullet in your head.”

He took a step closer, resting one large hand on the bedpost.

“I told Julian that if he mentions the word 'treaty' again, I will release that video not to the police, but to the heads of the Five Families. Even among monsters, Miss Vance, there is one rule that remains absolute: you do not break the bones of a suckling child. If that video leaks, the Montigues will be hunted out of Chicago by sunrise.”

Lily let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. For the first time in hours, the icy weight of dread in her chest began to thaw.

“What will happen to her?” Lily whispered.

Victor looked down at Ethan, his expression softening into something raw, possessive, and terrifyingly dark.

“She wanted to make people disappear,” Victor murmured. “It would be poetic justice to let her see how easily that can be arranged.”

Ethan whimpered in his sleep, his little face scrunching up as if caught in a nightmare. His right hand released Victor’s shirt and reached blindly into the air.

“Lily...” the boy mumbled through the haze of sedation. “Lily... mama...”

The room went dead silent.

Lily froze, her eyes widening in pure shock.