The most feared mafia boss aimed a gun at my head when he caught me breastfeeding his dying baby—but one swallow exposed the monster hiding inside his own mansion.

The laundry chute swallowed us whole.

For one terrible second, there was no floor, no light, no air. Only darkness and Leo pressed against me as I slid through cold metal, my shoulder striking one side, my hip slamming into another.

I twisted so his tiny body stayed cushioned against my chest.

“Please,” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me too.”

We landed hard in a mountain of linen.

Pain shot up my spine, but Leo made a faint sound.

A living sound.

I nearly sobbed.

Above us, gunfire cracked through the mansion like thunder. Men shouted. Glass shattered. A woman screamed. Then another shot silenced everything for half a breath before chaos returned.

I pushed myself upright in the linen room. The air smelled of bleach, lavender, and fear.

Leo’s face was still too pale.

His little mouth opened and closed, searching weakly.

“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, sweetheart. Stay with me.”

I pulled the blanket tighter around him and moved toward the service corridor. My bare feet slipped against the cold floor. At some point during the fall, one of my shoes had come off. I did not look for it.

The Rossi estate had two worlds.

The shining world upstairs: marble floors, velvet drapes, oil paintings, chandeliers, armed men in tailored suits.

And the hidden world beneath it: servant staircases, laundry rooms, delivery tunnels, storage doors with broken locks, pipes that groaned at night, and women like me moving silently so powerful people could pretend we did not exist.

I knew the hidden world better than anyone hunting me.

That was the only reason I was still alive.

I slipped into the service hall.

At the far end, two guards ran past without looking down my corridor.

One said, “Boss is trapped upstairs.”

The other answered, “Marco said nobody leaves.”

Marco.

The name hit me like a warning bell.

Marco Rossi was Lorenzo’s cousin. He lived in the east wing and smiled too much. Every maid knew not to be alone near him. He called us “little ghosts” and touched shoulders he had no right to touch. I had once seen him standing outside the nursery at midnight, listening through the door.

Living inside his mansion.

I looked down at Leo.

“Your cousin,” I whispered. “Your own blood.”

Leo’s breathing hitched.

The monitor was gone. The doctors were gone. The only thing I had was instinct and terror.

A crash sounded behind me.

I ran.

I reached the kitchen passage, but stopped when I heard voices.

“She came this way,” a man said.

“Find the maid,” another answered. “Alive if possible. Dead if she runs.”

My chest tightened.

Dead if she runs.

Leo whimpered.

I ducked into the pantry and closed the door almost all the way. Shelves of flour, canned tomatoes, olive oil, and imported coffee towered around us. My body shook so violently I worried I would drop him.

Then my phone vibrated inside my uniform pocket.

I nearly screamed.

The screen showed an unknown number.

I should have ignored it.

Instead, I answered with my thumb and held it to my ear.

A man’s voice spoke quietly.

“Mara Vale. Do not make a sound. Listen carefully.”

My knees weakened.

“Who is this?”

“Someone who still works for Lorenzo.”

Still.

That word mattered.

“Go through the pantry. Third shelf from the floor. Behind the rice bags, there is a latch.”

I stared at the shelves.

“How do you know where I am?”

“Because I put cameras in the servant corridors after Mrs. Rossi died.”

Mrs. Rossi.

Lorenzo’s wife, Sofia, had died giving birth to Leo. That was what the staff whispered. Complications. Blood loss. A tragedy money could not fix.

But now nothing in that mansion felt like tragedy.

It felt like design.

The voice continued. “Marco controls the main exits. The gates are locked. Lorenzo is alive, but I do not know for how long. If you want the baby to live, move now.”

I shifted Leo with one arm and shoved aside two heavy bags of rice.

There was a small brass latch hidden in the wall.

“What’s behind it?”

“Old bootlegger tunnel. Mr. Rossi’s grandfather built it.”

Of course he did.

Only a mafia family would hide escape routes behind pantry shelves.

Leo gave a weak cough.

“What about a hospital?” I asked.

“No hospital yet. Marco has people watching every emergency room within twenty miles.”

“Then where do I go?”

“To the chapel.”

I froze.

“The chapel?”

“Behind the garden maze. There is an old private chapel on the property. Lorenzo’s wife is buried there. Nobody goes there at night.”

“Why would I take a dying baby to a chapel?”

“Because Dr. Bellamy is waiting there.”

My breath caught. Dr. Bellamy was Leo’s pediatric specialist. He had been fired two weeks ago after arguing with Cecelia in the hallway. Everyone said he had made a mistake with Leo’s treatment.

Maybe he had simply noticed too much.

Footsteps entered the kitchen outside.

The pantry door opened an inch.

I pulled the latch.

A narrow black doorway appeared behind the shelves.

I squeezed into it with Leo just as the pantry door swung fully open.

Light spilled across the floor.

I held my breath.

A guard stepped inside.

His boots stopped inches from the rice bags.

Leo stirred.

I pressed my lips to his forehead, begging silently.