The Mafia Boss Installed Cameras to Catch a Traitor Around His Disabled Twin, but What the Chubby Maid Did Made the Don Kneel in His Own House

Three weeks had passed since the night of the siege.

Spring was beginning to break across the shores of Lake Michigan, melting the last stubborn patches of gray snow into rushing streams of water that fed the estate’s sprawling gardens.

Inside the north wing, Mateo Moretti sat in a comfortable leather recliner by the wide bay window, his legs covered by a light cashmere blanket. He was holding a heavy silver-handled cane across his lap, his fingers gripping the carved wood with a determination that made his knuckles turn white.

The door opened quietly, and Evelyn stepped into the room carrying a porcelain mug of herbal tea.

“Afternoon, Mr. Moretti,” she smiled brightly, walking over to place the mug on the side table. “How are the legs today?”

Mateo looked up, his gray eyes—so like his brother’s, yet infinitely warmer—sparking with dry humor. “If you ask me to try standing one more time today, Evelyn, I’m going to use this cane to trip you.”

Evelyn laughed, pulling up a chair beside him. “Dr. Thorne said muscle recovery requires repetition, Mateo. You want to walk on your own two feet by summer, you have to suffer through my nagging.”

“My brother has infected you,” Mateo sighed good-naturedly, taking a sip of the tea. “He thinks stubbornness is a cure for everything.”

“Stubbornness runs in the family,” a deep voice rumbled from the doorway.

Dominic walked into the room. He had discarded his usual heavy suit jacket, wearing a crisp white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the lean, muscular power of his build. He looked relaxed, yet the sharp, predatory edge never truly left him.

He stopped beside Mateo’s chair, placing a firm, affectionate hand on his twin's shoulder. “How’s the therapy going?”

“She’s a tyrant,” Mateo grumbled, though a faint smile touched his lips. “You picked a wonderful nurse, Dom. Too bad you promoted her to head of household operations. Now nobody makes proper scones anymore.”

“I can still bake if I have time,” Evelyn protested with a mock frown.

“You don't have time,” Dominic said, looking down at her with a gaze so intense and possessive it made her cheeks flush warm. “You spend half your day managing my security schedules and the other half arguing with the head chef about olive oil imports.”

“Somebody has to keep this house from running like a criminal enterprise,” she retorted with a wink.

Dominic’s expression softened into something almost tender. “It’s already too late for that, Evelyn.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Dominic pulled it out, glanced at the encrypted screen, and his dark eyes immediately narrowed into slits of ice.

Mateo noticed the shift instantly. “What is it?”

“Roland Blackwood,” Dominic said, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous growl. “His shipping warehouses in the south district just went up in flames. Intelligence says he’s fleeing the city tonight on a private yacht out of Racine.”

Evelyn stood up from her chair, her professional instincts flaring. “Are you going after him?”

“He tried to kill my brother. He tried to destroy everything we built,” Dominic said, looking directly at her. “This ends tonight.”

“Dom,” Mateo said quietly, reaching out to grab his twin's arm. “Be careful. Blackwood is cornered. A cornered animal bites.”

“I don't miss,” Dominic replied coldly.

He turned toward the door, stopping just on the threshold. He looked back at Evelyn, who had followed him into the hallway, closing the bedroom door behind them so Mateo couldn't hear.