My Six-Year-Old Told New York’s Most Feared Mafia Boss He Should Be Her Daddy—But What She Whispered Next Made His Entire Mansion Go Silent

"How did they find you?" Adrian demanded, stepping around his desk and pulling a heavy silver pistol from a concealed drawer in the wainscoting.

Claire was frozen on the floor. "I... I don't know! A woman came to my apartment two nights ago. She wore a dark hoodie and gave me a message. She said it was time to bring Lily to the mansion. She said you were the only one left who could protect her!"

"That woman," Adrian said, checking the magazine of his weapon with a sharp clack. "Did she have a mark on her left wrist? A crescent-shaped scar?"

Claire blinked in surprise. "Yes! How did you—"

"Because that’s Elena’s scar," Adrian said, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, lethal light. "My wife isn't dead either."

Outside, the first sharp crack of automatic gunfire shattered the quiet night.

The heavy reinforced glass of the second-story windows rattled as bullets impacted the exterior masonry. Downstairs, the alarms began to blare in short, deafening pulses.

"Stay here! Lock this door from the inside!" Adrian ordered Claire, shoving her toward the private bathroom behind his desk. "If anyone other than me or Dante tries to open it, put a bullet through the panel!" He handed her a compact revolver from his desk before dashing out the door.

The hallway was filled with smoke and the metallic smell of gunpowder. Dante was at the top of the grand staircase, firing down into the foyer where four men in black tactical gear were advancing with submachine guns.

"Boss! They blew the front iron doors with breaching charges!" Dante yelled over the deafening roar of gunfire. "They aren't trying to negotiate! They came to wipe the house!"

Adrian dropped to one knee behind the marble balustrade, aiming his pistol with terrifying precision. He fired three shots in rapid succession. Two of the attackers crumpled to the floor near the overturned server tray; the third scrambled behind a pillar for cover.

"Where is Lily?!" Adrian shouted, reloading his clip.

"Mrs. Higgins locked her in the pantry behind the cold room!" Dante shouted back. "She’s safe for now!"

Down in the burning foyer, a loud, gravelly voice echoed above the alarm sirens.

"Adrian!"

A tall man stepped through the smoke-filled doorway, flanked by two heavily armed guards. He wore an expensive charcoal suit covered in a light dust from the explosion. His hair was stark white, his eyes cold and sunken.

Marcus Vance. Elena’s father.

"Marcus," Adrian called down, his voice carrying clearly despite the chaos. "You breached my house. You brought mercenaries to my home."

"You have something that belongs to my family, Adrian!" Marcus called back, stepping over the fallen bodies of his own men without a second glance. "Hand over the child and the nurse, and I might leave you alive to rot in your grief!"

"She's my daughter, Marcus!" Adrian yelled, his grip tightening on his gun. "Claire told me everything! You faked Elena's death! You hid my child from me for three years!"

Marcus let out a cruel, dry laugh that sounded like dry leaves scraping across concrete. "You fool! Do you really think I did it to keep her safe from my enemies? I did it to keep her safe from you!"

"What are you talking about?!"

"Ask your precious wife!" Marcus sneered, pulling a small silver detonator from his pocket. "She's the one who realized what you really were, Adrian! She was the one who asked me to stage the accident! She didn't want her child raised by a monster!"

Before Adrian could process the words, a second explosion shook the west wing of the mansion.

Dust and plaster rained down from the ceiling as a wall in the side gallery caved inward. Through the smoke, a figure leaped through the opening—moving with astonishing speed and agility.

It was a woman dressed in dark tactical clothes, her face covered by a leather mask, holding two silenced pistols.