The Curvy Nanny Hid Her Pregnancy for Months—Until the Mafia Don Found the Ultrasound Norah Hayes had survived 5 months inside a cartel boss’s house without a scratch. She had believed the oversized thrift-store sweaters and the constant laundry duty were enough to conceal what was happening to her body. But hiding a second-trimester pregnancy from the most paranoid man in the city was always going to be a losing game.

The library doors locked from the outside with a heavy, metallic slam.

Norah stood in the center of the dark, mahogany-paneled room, trembling. The sheer scale of her disaster was crashing down on her. Dominic thought she was a spy. He thought the baby was a weapon forged by his rivals.

But the look in Marcus’s eyes when he escorted her down the hall… that was worse.

Marcus hadn’t looked at her with suspicion. He had looked at her like a problem he was about to solve permanently.

Norah paced the length of the Persian rug, wrapping her arms around her stomach. The baby kicked, a hard, fluttering sensation that sent a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered to the dark room. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

An hour passed. The silence of the east wing was absolute.

Then, a faint scraping sound came from the heavy oak door.

Norah froze.

A piece of white paper slid under the crack of the door.

She rushed over and dropped to her knees, snatching it up. The handwriting was sharp and rushed.

Tell him the truth, and I will poison the child’s food the day it is born. Say it is a Moretti bastard, and I will let you live in exile. Choose.

Marcus.

He didn’t want Dominic to have an heir. An heir meant stability. It meant Dominic’s bloodline would secure the syndicate for another generation. Marcus wanted the throne for himself.

Norah crumpled the paper in her fist. If she told Dominic it was his, Marcus would kill them both. If she lied, Dominic would banish her—or worse.

Suddenly, a soft thump came from the air conditioning vent near the floorboards.

Norah gasped, scrambling backward.

The metal grate rattled, then popped loose, clattering onto the rug.

A tiny, soot-covered hand reached out.

“Nora?”

“Lily!” Norah rushed to the vent.

The four-year-old wiggled out of the narrow duct, her pink pajamas covered in dust.

“Bug, what are you doing in here? It’s not safe!” Norah whispered frantically, brushing the dirt from the child’s cheeks.

“I don’t like the yelling,” Lily said, her lower lip trembling. “And I found this. It’s shiny.”

Lily opened her small, grubby fist.

Norah stopped breathing.

Resting in the child’s palm was a heavy silver lighter.

It was custom-engraved with an intricate eagle crest. Norah recognized it instantly.

Five months ago, during the attack that sent her and Dominic into the safe room, she had seen one of the masked gunmen drop this exact lighter in the hallway before Dominic shot him. The lighter had disappeared from the evidence pile the next day.

“Where did you find this, Bug?” Norah asked, her voice shaking.

“In Uncle Marcus’s desk,” Lily said innocently. “I was hiding under it playing hide-and-seek.”

The final puzzle piece snapped into place.

Marcus hadn’t just orchestrated the attack five months ago. He was the one who disabled the cameras. He was the one trying to kill Dominic.

And now he was going to kill Norah to cover his tracks.

The lock on the library door clicked.

Norah’s head snapped up.

“Lily, hide! Back in the vent! Now!”

Lily didn’t argue. She scrambled back into the dark duct and pulled the grate partially shut just as the heavy oak doors swung open.

Marcus stood in the doorway. He wasn’t holding a gun.