"Pregnant Maid Slapped At Her Mother's Grave By A Senator's Daughter — Then The Mafia Boss Who Fathered Her Child Walked Through The Cemetery Gate

As weeks turned into months, Mara settled into her new life at Valentine Manor.

She transformed from a fearful, hiding maid into a confident, radiant woman. Under Gabriel's fierce protection and loving care, her health flourished. Her bump grew round and beautiful, a constant, glowing reminder of the new life they were building together.

Gabriel changed as well. The cold, ruthless Don who rarely smiled became a deeply attentive, protective father-to-be. He rearranged his entire schedule, working from his home office so he could attend every doctor's appointment, every ultrasound, and spend every evening walking through the rose gardens with Mara.

However, peace in Gabriel's world was always hard-won.

One evening, while Mara was resting in the library reading a book on newborn care, Viktor entered Gabriel's private study downstairs.

"Don Valentine," Viktor reported grimly. "We have a problem."

Gabriel looked up from his desk, his expression darkening instantly. "What is it?"

"Preston Thorne," Viktor said, placing a surveillance report on the desk. "Bianca's ex-husband. He's been drinking heavily since the divorce. He’s telling people in the underground bars that Mara stole his life, and that the baby she’s carrying is actually his."

Gabriel’s eyes flashed with lethal anger. "He is spreading rumors about my heir?"

"Yes," Viktor nodded. "He's desperate for money after being cut off by Senator Thorne. He’s hired a tabloid journalist to publish a story claiming that you took his pregnant mistress by force."

Gabriel stood up slowly, his posture radiating a terrifying aura of power.

"He thinks he can use tabloids to attack my family?" Gabriel said softly. "Preston Thorne is a sniveling coward who let his wife abuse an innocent woman under his own roof."

"How do you want to handle it, Don Gabriel?" Viktor asked, his hand resting near his sidearm.

"Bring him to the warehouse by the docks," Gabriel commanded coldly. "I will handle Preston Thorne personally tonight. Ensure Mara knows nothing of this. She needs quiet."

An hour later, in a dark, rain-swept warehouse near the river, Preston Thorne sat tied to a wooden chair, terrified and dripping with sweat.

Gabriel walked in, flanked by four guards. He did not carry a weapon. He didn't need one.

"Gabriel! Please!" Preston shrieked, thrashing against the ropes. "I didn't mean anything by it! I was just drunk!"

Gabriel stopped two feet away from him, looking down at the man with utter disgust.

"You watched Mara work eighteen hours a day in your house," Gabriel said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. "You tried to corner her in dark hallways. And when your wife struck her, you hid in your room like a rat."

"I... I was afraid of Bianca!" Preston wept.

"And now you dare to put my child's name in your filthy mouth?" Gabriel leaned down, his face inches from Preston's. "Listen to me very carefully, Preston. If I hear your voice again, if I see your face in this city again, I will not kill you. I will buy every debt you owe, seize every asset you possess, and drop you in a state prison where you will spend the rest of your natural life."

Gabriel slapped a one-way ticket to a remote mining town in South America onto Preston's lap.