Everyone in My Mansion Feared Me—Then One Tiny Girl in a Pink Dress Made Me Smile for the First Time in Years.

"Boss, we need to get you to the underground bunker," Silas urged, his American accent thick with anxiety. "The perimeter guards are falling back to the main gates, but if the Falcones breach the wall, this floor won't be safe."

Adrien did not move toward the bunker. Instead, he walked swiftly across the library to where Clara and Lily were.

"Pick her up," Adrien commanded Clara, his tone absolute and unbreakable.

Clara didn't hesitate. She scooped Lily into her arms, holding the toddler tightly against her chest. Lily, sensing the sudden shift in the adults, wrapped her small arms around her mother’s neck, her bright brown eyes wide and quiet.

"Where are we going?" Clara asked, her voice shaking violently.

"The West Wing," Adrien replied, placing a heavy, protective hand on the small of Clara’s back, guiding her toward the doors.

Silas blocked their path, looking incredibly stressed. "Boss, the West Wing is a dead end. It's your private sanctuary, yes, but it doesn't have an escape tunnel. If they get into the house, you'll be trapped. And you can't bring the help with you. They will slow you down!"

Adrien’s jaw tightened. He glared at Silas with a look so chilling it seemed to lower the temperature in the room. "The West Wing has bulletproof reinforced steel doors and ballistic glass. It is the safest place on this property. And they are coming with me."

"Adrien, she's just a maid!" Silas protested.

"She is under my protection tonight," Adrien growled, stepping into Silas’s personal space. "Now, you will take the men and you will hold the grand hallway. Nobody gets past the main staircase. If a single Falcone sets foot on my marble floor, I will hold you personally responsible."

Silas nodded frantically, understanding the severe finality in his boss's voice. "Yes, Boss. We will hold the line."

Adrien turned back to Clara. "Stay close to me. Do not let go of her."

They hurried out of the library and back into the grand marble hallway. The mansion was in chaos. Servants were fleeing toward the basement safe rooms, while heavily armed men in dark suits rushed past them, taking up defensive positions by the massive front doors.

Clara was hyperventilating, her fair skin pale as a ghost. She clutched Lily tighter, burying her face in her daughter’s soft curls.

"Look at me, Clara," Adrien said, stopping at the threshold of the dark corridor that led to the West Wing.