THE MAFIA'S UNWANTED BRIDE: BOUND BY BLOOD, SILENCE, AND REDEMPTION

The morning after the gala, the atmosphere inside the Moretti mansion had shifted drastically.

The younger maids bowed their heads respectfully when I passed, offering polite greetings instead of muffled snickers.

Only Mrs. Gable remained an icy monolith, moving through the corridors like an omen of ill fortune.

I spent the morning in the sunlit breakfast parlor with Mia and Lily.

The change in the girls over the last forty-eight hours was nothing short of miraculous.

While they still remained silent around the household staff, they chattered softly with me, pointing at pictures in storybooks and giggling at silly faces.

"More strawberries, please, Evie," Lily whispered, nudging her small silver bowl toward me.

"Coming right up, little lady," I smiled, slicing fresh fruit onto her plate.

Mia tugged at my sleeve, holding up a crayon drawing she had spent the morning working on.

It was a picture of four stick figures standing in front of a stone house: Vincent with broad shoulders, Mia and Lily holding hands, and a rounder woman with long brown hair wearing a blue dress.

Above the figures, Mia had written in clumsy, childish letters: "OUR FAMILY."

A lump formed in my throat, and I had to blink away tears as I pressed the drawing against my heart.

"I love it, Mia," I said softly, kissing her cheek.

"I am going to keep this forever."

Vincent entered the parlor just then, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit without a tie, holding a leather briefcase.

He paused by the table, his eyes catching the drawing in my hands.

A faint, rare smile touched his lips before he leaned down and kissed both of his daughters on the tops of their heads.

"I have a meeting at the port authority," he said, turning his gaze toward me.

"Child Protective Services has assigned an investigator, a woman named Eleanor Vance, to conduct a surprise home evaluation."

"She could arrive today or tomorrow."

"She is known to be incorruptible, which means Alberto Rossi will try other methods to undermine us."

"Keep the security team close and do not leave the estate grounds."

"We will be fine, Vincent," I reassured him, offering a warm smile.

"Go handle your business."

He lingered for a second longer than necessary, his dark eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my pulse race, before turning on his heel and departing.

Around two o’clock in the afternoon, Mrs. Gable entered the children’s playroom carrying a silver tray with two glasses of warm almond milk.

"The afternoon snack for the young mistresses, ma'am," the housekeeper said, keeping her gaze strictly on the floor.

"Thank you, Mrs. Gable," I replied, sitting on the rug where the girls were building a Lego castle.

"Set it on the side table, please."

She placed the tray down and quickly hurried out of the room, her footsteps unnaturally hurried.

Something in the back of my mind sounded an alarm.

Mrs. Gable had never personally brought snacks to the children; that task was always delegated to the junior maids.

Lily immediately reached for her glass, thirsty from playing.

"Wait, sweetheart," I said, catching her little wrist gently.

"Let Evie check the temperature first."

I picked up the glass of almond milk and brought it to my nose.

Beneath the sweet, nutty scent of almonds, there was a faint, bitter, chemical undertone that smelled sharply like crushed apricot pits.

My mother had been a hospice nurse for thirty years before she fell ill, and she had taught me never to ignore strange odors in food or medicine.

My blood ran cold.

I dipped the tip of my pinky finger into the liquid and touched it to the very tip of my tongue.

An intense, burning bitterness immediately numbed my tastebuds.

Cyanide or heavy sedatives.

"Don't touch this, either of you," I commanded sharply, my voice shaking with adrenaline.

I immediately grabbed both girls and led them out of the playroom, locking the door behind us with the brass key.

I marched straight downstairs toward the kitchen, my heart pounding against my ribs like a war drum.

Mrs. Gable was standing near the pantry, whispering frantically into a disposable burner phone.

"...it's done, they won't wake up until the investigator arrives, she will look negligent—"

She froze as I kicked open the swinging kitchen door, holding the glass of poisoned milk in my hand.

"Hang up the phone, Mrs. Gable," I said, my voice vibrating with a terrifying calm I didn't know I possessed.

Her face drained of all color, and she dropped the phone onto the marble island.

"Mrs. Moretti, I... I don't know what you mean—"

"Drink it," I said, slamming the glass down on the counter directly in front of her.

"If this is just warm almond milk for two innocent children, drink the entire glass right now."

The woman backed away, her hands trembling violently, knocking over a spice rack that shattered across the floor.

"I... I can't," she whimpered, tears of panic finally breaking through her stoic mask.

"Who paid you?" I demanded, advancing on her with righteous fury.

"Was it Alberto Rossi?"

"Did you agree to poison two motherless children just to help a corrupt politician win a custody case?"

"He promised me two million dollars!" she screamed, breaking down completely.

"He said it was only a heavy sedative! Just enough to make them unresponsive when the state inspector arrived so they would declare you an unfit, drugged household!"

"I didn't want to hurt them!"

"You wretched, cowardly monster," I hissed.

I turned to the two armed security guards who had rushed into the kitchen at the sound of the shouting.

"Tie her to a chair in the cellar," I ordered, channeling the exact cold authority I had seen Vincent use.

"Do not harm her, but do not let her speak to anyone until Mr. Moretti returns."

"And preserve that glass as evidence."

The guards looked at each other, then looked at me with genuine reverence, nodding sharply.

"Right away, Mrs. Moretti."

As they dragged the weeping housekeeper away, I leaned against the counter, my whole body shaking from the realization of how close I had come to losing those precious girls.