TAKE THAT LITTLE GIRL'S MICROPHONE AWAY, YOU IGNORANT LITTLE MAID! SHE HAS NOTHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!” THE MAFIA BOSS'S FIANCÉE HUMILIATED HIS 25-YEAR-OLD HOUSEKEEPER IN FRONT OF FIFTY DINNER GUESTS—BUT WHEN THE MAID REFUSED TO SILENCE HIS TEN-YEAR-OLD DAUGHTER

I dropped the wooden spoon into the mixing bowl.

The loud clatter echoed through the kitchen.

“Custody?” I repeated, my voice shaking with sudden, blinding rage. “She hated Isabella. She humiliated her.”

Luca’s jaw clenched so hard I thought his teeth would shatter. He stared at the legal document in Roberto’s hands.

“She doesn't want my daughter,” Luca growled. “She wants leverage. She knows the only way to hurt me is through Bella.”

Roberto nodded grimly. “Her father may be in a federal cell, but the Bellini family still has deep pockets. They hired the most aggressive corporate sharks in Chicago. They’re claiming that since the engagement was formally announced, Vanessa is entitled to half your assets. And they’re arguing that as her future stepmother, Vanessa formed a ‘maternal bond’ with Isabella.”

“A maternal bond?” I scoffed in disgust. “She told a ten-year-old girl her dead mother didn’t want her.”

Isabella tugged on my skirt. She looked terrified. “Emily? Is Vanessa coming back? Is she taking me away?”

I immediately knelt down and pulled her into a tight hug.

“No, sweetheart,” I promised fiercely. “I will never let that woman near you again. Never.”

Luca walked over and placed a large, comforting hand on Isabella’s head.

“Nobody is taking you anywhere, Bella,” he swore. “Go upstairs and play. I need to talk to Uncle Roberto and Emily.”

Isabella nodded and ran off, but I could see the fear lingering in her eyes.

Once she was gone, Luca turned to Roberto.

“How do we stop this?” Luca demanded.

“We fight it in court,” Roberto said. “But it will be a bloodbath. They will drag your mafia ties into the spotlight. They’ll try to prove you’re an unfit father. And if they succeed... a judge might actually grant her partial custody.”

Panic flared in my chest.

If Vanessa got custody, even on weekends, she would make Isabella’s life a living hell out of spite.

“We need character witnesses,” Roberto continued. “People who can testify to Vanessa’s abuse.”

“The staff,” I said quickly. “The maids, the cooks. We all saw how she treated Isabella.”

“It’s not enough,” Roberto sighed. “The Bellini lawyers will claim the staff is on Luca’s payroll and forced to lie.”

Luca slammed his fist onto the marble countertop.

“Then I’ll handle this my way,” he said darkly.

I grabbed his arm. “No. No violence, Luca. If you threaten her, they win. They prove you’re a monster.”

“Then what do we do, Emily?!” Luca yelled, desperation breaking through his tough exterior. “I can’t lose her!”

I took a deep breath.

I thought about the engagement dinner. The fifty wealthy guests. The people who saw everything.

“We don't use the staff,” I said slowly. “We use the guests.”

Luca frowned. “The family bosses? They’ll never testify in open court. The code of silence forbids it.”

“Not the bosses,” I said. “The wives.”

I looked at Luca. “At the dinner, when Vanessa grabbed me and pulled me away from Isabella... the wives of the bosses were watching. I saw their faces. They were disgusted.”

Roberto’s eyes widened. “The mafia wives.”

“Yes,” I nodded. “They aren't bound by the blood oath. And in this world, family is everything. If the wives testify that Vanessa publicly abused a child and framed a maid for theft, the judge will throw her case out immediately.”

Luca stared at me in awe.

“You want to summon a council of the Five Families’ wives?” Luca asked.

“I’ll do it,” I said fiercely. “I’m going to be your wife. It’s time I started acting like the matriarch of this family.”

Luca smiled, a slow, proud smile.

Three days later, I hosted a private luncheon in the Moretti mansion’s sunroom.

Five older, powerful, impeccably dressed Italian women sat around the table. They were the wives of the most dangerous men in Chicago.

I served them tea myself.

I didn't act like a maid. I wore a tailored navy dress and the sapphire necklace my grandmother left me. I stood tall.

“Ladies,” I said clearly. “I am marrying Luca Moretti. And Vanessa Bellini is trying to take my daughter.”

The oldest woman at the table, Carmela, took a sip of her tea.

“Vanessa is a snake,” Carmela said bluntly. “She embarrassed us all at the dinner.”

“I need you to testify in family court,” I said.

The women exchanged uneasy glances.

“We do not speak to the law, dear,” another woman said gently. “It brings too much attention.”

I placed both my hands on the table and leaned forward.

“A mother died,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “A ten-year-old girl is terrified. If you do not stand with me to protect this child, you are allowing Vincent Bellini’s poison to win.”

The room fell silent.

Carmela looked at the sapphire necklace around my neck.

“Where did you get that stone?” she asked softly.

“It was collateral given to Lorenzo Moretti to save my grandmother’s life thirty years ago,” I answered.

Carmela smiled.

“Lorenzo saved my brother, too,” she murmured.