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 three enforcers turned as one, their faces devoid of pity.

“Dominic, wait!” Norah screamed, holding her hands up. “You’re being played! Marcus is the mole!”

One of the enforcers grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back. The pain shot through her shoulders, but she fought against it, kicking out violently.

“Marcus?” Dominic set his glass down slowly. The ice clinked against the crystal, sounding like a gunshot in the quiet room. “Marcus is currently in the east wing guarding you. Or he was supposed to be.”

“He tried to kill my baby!” Norah yelled, the tears streaming down her face. She struggled against the massive enforcer holding her. “He brought a syringe to induce a miscarriage! He wants you to think I took a payoff!”

Dominic’s eyes narrowed. He walked slowly around the desk.

“And why would Marcus care if you have a Moretti bastard?”

“Because it’s not a Moretti bastard!” Norah screamed, the truth finally tearing its way out of her throat. “It’s yours! It’s yours, Dominic!”

The entire room went completely still.

The enforcer holding Norah loosened his grip by a fraction of an inch.

Dominic stopped walking. He stared at her, his pale eyes searching her face. He was looking for the lie. He was analyzing her pupil dilation, the pitch of her voice, the desperate, raw terror in her expression.

“A desperate lie from a desperate woman,” a voice said from the doorway.

Everyone turned.

Marcus leaned against the doorframe. Blood was trickling down the side of his face from the gash the lighter had left. He looked pale, but his voice was steady.

“She attacked me, Dom,” Marcus said, pressing a handkerchief to his head. “I found a burner phone under her mattress. She was calling the Morettis. When I confronted her, she hit me with a heavy book and ran here to feed you this delusion.”

Dominic looked back and forth between them.

“She’s lying, Dominic,” Marcus pressed, stepping into the room. “She just wants the child to live. Kill her now, before the Morettis realize their spy has been burned.”

Norah’s heart pounded. It was her word against the man Dominic had trusted for a decade.

“Dominic,” Norah gasped, her voice trembling. “Check his left pocket.”

Marcus stiffened.

“What?” Dominic asked quietly.

“When Lily was hiding under Marcus’s desk today, she found something,” Norah said, locking eyes with Dominic. “A silver lighter. Custom engraved with an eagle. The same one the assassins dropped in the hallway five months ago. I hit him with it. It should still be in his pocket.”

Dominic’s gaze shifted to Marcus.

Marcus forced a laugh. “This is ridiculous. She’s stalling.”

“Empty your pockets, Marcus,” Dominic ordered. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of an absolute command.

Marcus didn’t move. The polite, concerned brother act began to slip, revealing the cold, calculating panic underneath.

“Dom, you’re going to take the word of a nanny over your underboss?”

“Empty. Your. Pockets.”

Marcus slowly reached into his jacket. But his hand didn’t go for his left pocket.

It went to his waistband.

He drew a suppressed Glock and fired directly at Dominic.

But Dominic Russo was not a man who waited to be shot. He had already drawn his own weapon from the holster at the small of his back.

Marcus’s bullet shattered the bulletproof glass behind Dominic, missing his head by inches.

Dominic fired twice.

Marcus was thrown backward, crashing into the heavy wooden doors. He slumped to the floor, gasping for air, blood blooming across his chest.

The three enforcers instantly drew their weapons, aiming at Marcus.

Dominic didn’t look at the dying man.

He walked slowly toward Norah, who had dropped to her knees in shock.

He knelt in front of her. He reached out, his hand shaking slightly, and placed his palm flat against the thick wool covering her swollen stomach.

“Mine?” he whispered, the question breaking his voice.

“Yours,” Norah sobbed, covering his hand with hers.

Before Dominic could say another word, the wail of proximity alarms shattered the silence of the compound. The red emergency lights flashed violently.