The Mafia Boss Waited Until 2 A.M. to Accuse His Maid of Lying, but the Bruise on Her Wrist Exposed the Betrayal Inside His Own House

Above ground, the emergency power flickered on, casting a dim, red emergency glow across the grand halls.

Claire heard the gunshot echo from the basement levels.

She didn't hesitate. Ignoring Mason’s order to stay locked inside the study, she grabbed a heavy brass fireplace poker from beside the hearth and unlocked the door, stepping out into the red-lit hallway.

At the end of the corridor, near the grand staircase, Dominic was shouting into a radio.

"Perimeter breach at Gate Two! We’ve got three vehicles coming up the main driveway! All units engage!"

Automatic weapon fire suddenly shattered the silence outside. Heavy bullets slammed into the front oak doors of the mansion, splintering the thick wood and shattering the leaded glass windows in the foyer.

Claire ducked behind a marble pillar, her heart pounding in her throat.

"Claire!" Dominic yelled, spotting her behind the pillar. "Get back upstairs! The Morettis are hitting the house!"

"Where is Mason?" Claire shouted over the deafening noise of gunfire outside.

Before Dominic could answer, the heavy front doors were blown inward by a breacher charge. Heavy smoke poured into the foyer, followed by four men in tactical gear carrying submachine guns.

Dominic raised his weapon, firing three rapid shots that dropped the lead breacher. But the remaining three shooters returned fire, pinning Dominic behind the reception desk.

Claire crouched low, her eyes scanning the floor. She saw Dominic’s backup weapon—a small snub-nosed revolver—slide across the polished marble floor toward her pillar during the blast.

She reached out, her fingers closing around the cold steel frame of the gun.

She had never fired a gun in her life. But as she watched a mercenary advance toward Dominic’s position, something inside her clicked—a sharp, instinctive survival drive forged by two years of living among dangerous men.

Claire raised the heavy revolver with both hands, aimed at the mercenary's back, and squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

The recoil jerked her wrists violently, but the bullet struck the shooter squarely in the shoulder, spinning him around. Dominic immediately popped up from behind the desk and finished him with two shots to the chest.

"Nice shot, housekeeper!" Dominic yelled, reloading his magazine.

Suddenly, a heavy hand grabbed Claire from behind, pulling her back into the shadows of the corridor.

Claire gasped, swinging her elbow backward, but a familiar, iron grip caught her arm, pulling her tightly against a broad chest.

"It's me," Mason’s voice growled in her ear.

Claire let out a ragged breath, turning in his arms. He was covered in drywall dust, a thin cut bleeding over his left eyebrow, but his eyes were bright, clear, and focused entirely on her.

"Marcus is the traitor," Mason said quickly. "He turned off the security grid and opened the gates for the Moretti squad."

"Is he still in the house?" Claire asked.

"He’s headed for the roof helipad," Mason said, checking his gun’s magazine. "He’s got the master drive with all our offshore account keys. If he gets off this roof, my entire family operation collapses in twenty-four hours."

Claire looked at the emergency control panel on the wall behind them. "The helipad fuel lines are electronically locked from the main administrative office. If I reset the circuit breaker in my office, I can override his flight clearance!"

Mason looked down at her, his face dark with concern. "It’s too dangerous. The upper hall is compromised."