The Mafia Boss’s Fiancée Called Me a Clumsy Fat Maid and Raised Her Hand at His Mother—Then the Blow I Took Turned Their Alliance Into a Reckoning

The war began in a heartbeat.

The moment Don Carmine reached for his gun, Dominic moved with lightning speed. He grabbed me around the waist, pulling me down behind the heavy solid oak table just as gunfire erupted across the warehouse.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The deafening deafening blasts of high-caliber handguns echoed off the metal ceiling. Glass shattered, sparks flew, and screaming broke out as the other syndicate bosses scrambled for cover beneath their bodyguards' shields.

Dominic pulled a sleek, black semi-automatic pistol from his shoulder holster. He stayed crouched beside me, his broad body completely shielding me from any stray bullets.

"Stay down!" Dominic commanded over the roaring gunfire, his eyes fierce and intense. "Marco! Antonio! Suppressive fire!"

Marco and Antonio, along with four Rossi enforcers, unleashed a devastating wall of gunfire toward the Moretti loyalists. The heavy oak table splintered as bullets slammed into the wood above our heads, but it held strong.

I pressed my back against the underside of the heavy table, holding my hands over my ears, my heart hammering like a war drum. But even in the middle of chaos, blood, and gunfire, I wasn't afraid. Because Dominic Rossi was standing right in front of me, an immovable wall of dark steel, protecting me with his life.

Dominic leaned out from behind the table, firing three precise shots.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three of Don Carmine’s senior bodyguards crumpled to the concrete floor.

Don Carmine, realizing he was severely outgunned, grabbed Bianca by the arm and began retreating toward the back exits of the warehouse, screaming for his remaining men to cover his escape.

"Dominic, he's running!" I shouted, pointing toward the rear doors.

Dominic looked at me, a cold, ruthless smile breaking across his sharp features. "He won't get far."

Dominic stood up, stepping out from behind the cover. "Push forward!" he bellowed to his men.

The Rossi enforcers moved in perfect tactical formation, sweeping through the warehouse with military precision, eliminating the remaining Moretti shooters within seconds. The other syndicate bosses and their guards remained pinned down, refusing to interfere in what was clearly a total destruction of the Moretti leadership.

Dominic walked slowly toward the rear exit, his gun held ready at his side. I followed closely behind him, surrounded by Marco and Antonio.

We stepped out into the misty rain outside the back of the warehouse.

Don Carmine and Bianca were trapped against a tall, chain-link perimeter fence overlooking the dark waters of the Hudson River. Their getaway car had been blocked off by two black Rossi SUVs that had anticipated their escape route.

Don Carmine was panting heavily, holding a small pistol with shaking hands. Bianca was on her knees in the wet gravel, her mink coat soaked, crying hysterically as rain washed away her expensive makeup.

"Stay back, Rossi!" Don Carmine yelled, his voice cracking with terror. "Stay back or I’ll open fire!"

Dominic walked toward them with slow, terrifying calm. He didn't even bother raising his gun.

"Drop the weapon, Carmine," Dominic said, his voice dropping into a lethal, low tone. "It's over."

Don Carmine looked at Dominic's cold, unblinking eyes, then looked at the four heavily armed Rossi enforcers aiming assault rifles at his chest. He realized there was no escape. His empire was gone. His reputation was destroyed. His alliance was shattered.

With a helpless sob, Don Carmine dropped his pistol into the muddy gravel.

Dominic stopped a few feet away. He looked down at Bianca, who was cowering at her father's feet, looking up at him with tear-filled, terrified eyes.

"Please, Dominic..." Bianca begged, her voice high and desperate. "Please... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry! I'll apologize to your mother! I'll apologize to the maid! Just please don't kill us!"

Dominic turned his gaze onto me, holding out his hand. "Skyler. Come here."

I stepped forward, walking up to Dominic's side. The rain fell softly on my emerald velvet dress, but I didn't care. I looked down at Bianca Moretti—the woman who had called me a fat, clumsy maid, the woman who had tried to strike an eighty-year-old mother, the woman who thought her wealth made her untouchable.

She was kneeling in the mud at my feet, weeping and begging for her life.

"She called you a clumsy, fat nobody," Dominic said quietly, looking at me with absolute devotion and cold respect. "She tried to ruin your face and destroy my family. Tell me what you want done with them, Skyler."

Bianca gasped, looking up at me in pure horror. She couldn't believe that her fate—and the fate of her father—was now resting entirely in the hands of the maid she had humiliated thirty-six hours ago.

"Please!" Bianca sobbed, reaching out toward my heels. "Please, Skyler! Have mercy! I was wrong! You're not a nobody! Please!"

I looked down at her for a long, silent moment. I felt no urge for blood. I felt no desire for murder. The sight of her weeping in the mud was punishment enough.

"Stripping them of their power is enough, Dominic," I said softly, my voice clear and steady over the sound of the rain. "Exile them from New York. Take their docks, take their business, and ensure they never step foot in this city again."

Dominic looked at me, his icy blue eyes softening with deep, profound respect. He turned back to Don Carmine and Bianca.

"You heard her," Dominic barked. "You have until sunrise to leave New York. If either of you ever returns, I won't waste time with summits. I will put a bullet through both of your heads. Marco, escort them to the airport."