Get Out of My Way! The Heiress Slapped the Curvy Pregnant Waitress in Front of the Mafia Boss

The journey from the Grand Astoria ballroom to the Romano estate was surreal.

Abigail sat in the back of an immaculate, silver-black Maybach, surrounded by buttery soft leather and the gentle purr of a high-end V12 engine. Isabella sat right beside her, holding a soft cashmere blanket over Abigail’s shoulders and offering her warm tea from a thermos. Matteo sat in the front passenger seat, his massive frame silhouetted against the city lights flashing past the tinted windows. He had spent the entire ride on his phone, quietly making calls that were systematically dismantling the Sinclair family’s business empire while simultaneously arranging top-tier medical care for Abigail.

"Drink a little bit more, Abigail," Isabella said gently, her tone dripping with affection. "You're still shivering. Are you in any pain? Does your face still hurt?"

Abigail took a small sip of the herbal tea, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. "I'm okay, Isabella. Really. The redness will fade. I'm just... overwhelmed. I feel like I'm dreaming."

"You aren't dreaming," Matteo said from the front seat, turning his head slightly so he could see her in the rearview mirror. His dark eyes were filled with an intense, steady focus. "You are safe now, Abigail. From this moment on, no one will ever harm you, insult you, or make you feel small again."

Twenty minutes later, the heavy iron gates of the Romano compound swung open silently. The vehicle swept up a winding, tree-lined driveway that opened up to a massive, Mediterranean-style estate nestled in the quiet, rolling hills overlooking the bay. Grand stone pillars, warm exterior lighting, and manicured gardens gave the mansion a timeless, majestic feel.

When the car glided to a stop beneath the grand portico, Matteo was out of his seat before the driver could even open his door. He opened Abigail's door himself, offering his hand to help her step out onto the smooth driveway.

"Careful," he murmured softly, his large hand supporting her elbow with incredible delicacy. He seemed hyper-aware of her pregnancy, matching his long stride to her slow, careful steps.

They stepped into the grand foyer, where a team of house staff stood in a neat row. An older woman with dark hair tied in a neat bun stepped forward, her eyes warm and welcoming.

"Abigail, this is Mrs. Gable, our head housekeeper," Isabella introduced. "She's known Matteo and me since we were children."

"Welcome to the Romano home, Miss Foster," Mrs. Gable said with a deep, respectful incline of her head. "A master suite has been prepared for you on the main floor so you don't have to navigate any stairs. Dr. Vance is already waiting in the private medical wing to perform a routine checkup, if you feel up to it."

Abigail hesitated, looking down at her worn uniform and dusty shoes. "I... I don't want to be a burden. A small guest room would be more than enough—"

"You could never be a burden in this house," Matteo interrupted firmly, though his voice remained exceptionally gentle. "Everything here is at your disposal. Dr. Vance is our private physician. He is here simply to ensure that you and your baby are healthy after the stress of tonight."

Relief washed over Abigail, so strong that her knees wobbled slightly. Matteo instantly caught her, his strong arms steadying her before she could stumble. His touch was firm, protective, and filled with a strange, magnetic warmth that sent a soft flutter through her heart.

"Thank you, Matteo," she whispered softly, using his first name for the first time.

A subtle shift passed over Matteo's face at the sound of his name on her lips. His jaw softened, and he nodded slowly. "Come. Let's get you checked by the doctor first."

The estate’s private medical suite was more advanced than most high-end clinics Abigail had visited. Dr. Vance, a silver-haired man with a calming presence, conducted a thorough, non-invasive examination. He checked her blood pressure, monitored her heart rate, and performed a quick ultrasound to check on the baby.

Matteo and Isabella stood near the corner of the room, watching in quiet reverence.

"Heartbeat is strong and steady," Dr. Vance announced with a warm smile, turning the monitor so Abigail could see the flickering image of her unborn child. "The baby is perfectly healthy, Miss Foster. However, you are severely fatigued, slightly dehydrated, and showing signs of mild stress. You need rest, proper nutrition, and zero physical exertion for the remainder of your pregnancy."

"She will have whatever she needs," Matteo said immediately, stepping forward to look at the ultrasound screen. His eyes softened dramatically as he watched the tiny heartbeat fluttering on the display. "She won't lift a single finger from this day forward."

"I have a job..." Abigail began weakly, though she knew her serving career at the Grand Astoria was effectively over.

"You don't have a job anymore, Abigail," Matteo said, looking from the monitor straight into her eyes. "Your only responsibility now is to rest and stay healthy. I will handle everything else. Your rent, your bills, your future—it is all taken care of."

"Matteo, I can't accept that," Abigail protested, her pride struggling against her exhaustion. "You don't owe me a lifetime of charity just because of something I did eight years ago."

"It isn't charity," Isabella chimed in, stepping forward to squeeze Abigail's hand. "It's gratitude. You gave me my life, Abigail. Nothing we do for you could ever truly repay that debt."

"Isabella is right," Matteo added quietly. "And besides... it is my honor to protect you."

After the doctor concluded his examination, Mrs. Gable escorted Abigail to her suite. The room was breathtaking—a vast, airy bedroom decorated in soft creams and warm oak, featuring a massive king-sized bed covered in plush linens, a private terrace overlooking the dark gardens, and an adjoining master bathroom with a deep soaking tub.

Fresh, soft maternity clothes had already been placed in the walk-in closet, along with plush slippers and organic skincare products.

Abigail washed her face, watching the redness on her cheek slowly begin to pale. She changed into a soft, oversized cashmere sweater and comfortable lounge pants. For the first time in seven months, she felt completely weightless.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Abigail called out.

The door swung open, and Matteo stepped inside. He had removed his formal suit jacket and loosened his silk tie, looking slightly more relaxed, though his presence still commanded the entire room. He carried a small silver tray bearing a cup of warm milk and a plate of freshly baked cookies.

"Mrs. Gable thought you might want a late-night snack," Matteo said, setting the tray down on the bedside table.

"Thank you," Abigail said, sitting on the edge of the plush bed.

Matteo remained standing a few feet away, respecting her space. He looked around the room, making sure everything was to her liking, before turning his gaze back to her.

"I had my men visit your apartment complex an hour ago," Matteo said calmly.

Abigail blinked in surprise. "My apartment?"

"I wanted to ensure you didn't have to return to that place," Matteo explained. "My team secured your personal items, your documents, and anything of sentimental value. They will be brought here tomorrow morning. I also paid off the remainder of your lease and compensated your landlord so you will never have to deal with him again."

Abigail stared at him, stunned by the sheer efficiency and speed with which he operated. "You... you didn't have to do all that."

"I wanted to," Matteo replied simple. He took a slow breath, his dark eyes fixed on her face. "Abigail... if you don't mind me asking... where is the father of your child?"

The air in the room grew heavy. Abigail looked down at her hands, her fingers tightening around the edge of the soft blanket.

"He... he left," Abigail murmured softly, her voice tinged with old sorrow. "When I told him I was pregnant, he said he wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility. He packed his bags and vanished three months ago. I haven't heard from him since."

A dangerous, icy dark flickered deep within Matteo's eyes, though he kept his tone completely steady. "I see. He was a fool."

"I was stupid to trust him," she whispered.

"No," Matteo corrected her firmly, stepping closer until he stood right beside her bed. "You were loyal and caring. He was weak. There is a grand difference. Never blame yourself for someone else's cowardice."

Abigail looked up into his dark, intense eyes, feeling a strange, profound sense of comfort washing over her.

"Get some sleep, Abigail," Matteo said softly, reaching out and gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. His warm fingers brushed lightly against her cheek, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. "Tomorrow is a new day. And as long as you are under my roof, no harm will ever touch you again."