“Someone Help Him!” The Maid’s Toddler Screamed — The Paralyzed Mafia Boss Was Drowning

The council meeting ended in chaotic retreat. The Five Families immediately threw their support behind the Moretti syndicate, abandoning Valenti like rats fleeing a burning ship.

By midnight, the victory seemed complete.

Luca, exhausted to the point of collapse after forcing his body to stand for five full minutes, was transported back to the estate in a high-security armored convoy. The pain was blinding, but Dr. Althaus was waiting with stabilizers, declaring the sudden neuro-regeneration a physiological miracle brought on by extreme psychological stimulus.

"He needs forty-eight hours of absolute rest," Dr. Althaus warned Elena in the hallway of the master suite. "His spine is inflamed. If he tries to walk again right now, the nerve will permanently sever."

"I will make sure he stays in bed," Elena promised.

She walked into the dimly lit bedroom. Luca was lying back against the pillows, his face pale, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. Mia was already asleep in the next room, exhausted from the excitement of the hotel.

Elena sat on the edge of the mattress and gently took Luca’s hand. "You did it."

Luca looked at her, a faint, tired smile touching his lips. "We did it. You were magnificent tonight, Elena. The way you looked at Valenti... you broke his spine before I even took a step."

Elena leaned down, resting her forehead against his chest. "I just wanted to protect you. I wanted to protect the life we are building."

Luca’s fingers tangled into her dark hair, holding her close. "You don't have to protect me anymore, Elena. Tomorrow, I sign the papers. You and Mia will be officially named under my personal protection. Mia will have my name. No one will ever threaten either of you again."

The peaceful moment was shattered by a deafening, bone-shaking explosion.

*BOOM!*

The master suite violently rattled. Plaster rained down from the ceiling. Outside, the night sky lit up in a terrifying orange glare as the estate's main security gate was blown into twisted metal.

Sirens wailed. Automatic gunfire erupted across the estate grounds—not the sporadic pops of assassins, but the heavy, rhythmic thundering of an all-out military assault.

The door flew open. Marco staggered in, blood streaming down the side of his face, holding an assault rifle.

"Boss! It's Valenti!" Marco shouted over the roar of gunfire. "He brought everything! Over thirty men! They used a truck bomb at the outer gate! They're cutting through the perimeter guards!"

"Mia!" Elena screamed, leaping up from the bed.

She sprinted into the adjoining room, scooping the crying child into her arms just as a burst of rifle fire shattered the bedroom windows, chewing through the curtains and embedding bullets into the headboard.

Luca fought to sit up, his teeth gritted in blinding agony. He swung his legs off the bed, but the moment his feet touched the floor, his knees buckled. His spine seized with white-hot, paralyzing pain. He crashed to his hands and knees on the carpet.

"Luca!" Elena screamed, rushing back into the room, holding Mia tightly against her chest.

"I can't... I can't move them," Luca gasped, slamming his fist into the floor in furious, helpless rage. "The doctor was right. The inflammation... my legs are dead."

Outside the bedroom door, the gunfire grew deafeningly loud.

"They're on the stairs!" Marco roared, firing a controlled burst down the hallway before slamming the heavy oak doors and locking the reinforced deadbolts. "Boss, the safe room is in the basement! We have to go through the private lift!"

"Take them, Marco!" Luca commanded, pointing at Elena and Mia. "Get them into the safe room! Now!"

"No! I'm not leaving you!" Elena sobbed, tears streaming down her face as Mia wailed in terror.

"Elena, listen to me!" Luca roared, grabbing her wrist with all the strength left in his hands. "They want me! If they get through that door and you are here, they will slaughter you both! Go with Marco! Now!"

*BANG! BANG!*

A heavy sledgehammer began smashing against the oak doors. Wood splintered. A shotgun blast blew out the deadbolt mechanism.

"Go!" Luca yelled.

Marco grabbed Elena by the arm, forcing her toward the hidden panel in the walk-in closet that led to the reinforced escape elevator.

"Luca, I love you!" Elena screamed through her tears, pulled backward into the darkness of the elevator shaft.

"I love you, Elena," Luca whispered as the steel door slid shut, sealing them inside.

The master bedroom doors crashed inward, splintering into pieces.

Vincent Valenti stepped through the smoke, holding a nickel-plated 1911 pistol, his tuxedo covered in ash, his face twisted in psychotic rage. Behind him stood six heavily armed mercenaries, their assault rifles raised.

Luca sat on the floor, his back braced against the mahogany bed frame, his useless legs sprawled before him. He was unarmed, bleeding, and entirely defenseless.

Valenti stepped forward, leveling the barrel of the gun directly at the center of Luca’s forehead.

"Look at the great Don Moretti," Valenti laughed, a sickening, broken sound. "You stood up at the Plaza, didn't you? A nice parlor trick. A dead man walking."

Valenti cocked the hammer of the gun.

"Where is the girl, Luca? Where is your little whore? Tell me where the safe room is, and I'll make your death quick."

Luca looked up into the barrel of the gun. He did not blink. A cold, mocking smile touched his lips.

"You're too late, Vincent," Luca whispered.